Violent Delights and Violent Ends
by headstand
Summary: It's 1978 and the Wizarding World is in the midst of war. Two students, who will one day fight on opposing sides of the conflict, are thrown together in a grudging partnership. When everything about the other screams for distrust and hatred, why are they so drawn to one another?
1. Life Sentence

**Summary** : The Marauders have recently graduated from Hogwarts. As they navigate their way through adult life, those left behind at Hogwarts struggle to separate what should be their last childhood years from the growing peril outside of the castle's walls. This story follows students in their last year at Hogwarts, and then into their time spent in opposing factions: the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters.

Disclaimer: JK owns all that is Harry Potter.

* * *

 **PART ONE - Seventh Year (September 1978)**

Between her fingers, Marlene McKinnon held a badge. It glinted softly in the sunlight as she angled it towards the window of the train, reflecting a shimmering red hue onto the wall of the carriage. She examined it carefully, tracing the words 'Head Girl' contained within the swirling banner. It was strange; if you had told an eleven-year-old Marlene that, come her seventh year she was to be made Head Girl, there would have been no stopping the explosion of glee from her little mouth. Now, it seemed like an empty gesture.

On the empty train seat beside her sat a newspaper. A half-concealed photograph displayed a beaming man whose arm was wrapped around a smiling woman. A Christmas tree stood tall beside them. Unfolding the paper, Marlene spread it across her lap and forced her face to remain impassively still as she read about the death of a married couple. Their bodies were found shortly after the sighting of a glittering green skull in the sky above an eerily empty house. With forcibly steady hands, Marlene refolded the paper and placed it back on the seat. A Headship was an immense privilege, but it seemed to Marlene as though there was little she could do to help the world from within a classroom and with a meagre badge as her weapon.

As per the instructions she had received from Professor Dumbledore on the award of her Headship, Marlene had arrived at the train station ahead of the 11 o'clock schedule. She had already bid farewell to her parents that morning, as they would accompany her younger siblings to the station later on. Despite having done the same for the previous six years, hugging them goodbye always left Marlene with a heavy sadness in the pit of her stomach.

Outside on the platform, the gentle hum of voices was beginning to swell as more students arrived. They were being swept into tremendous hugs by parents; mothers were wiping away tears, and fathers were mussing the hair of their sons. Marlene climbed to her feet, straightened out her robes, pressed her palms to the window ledge and drank in the smells and the atmosphere of what was to be her last train journey to Hogwarts. Her mind lingered momentarily on whom she was to share her Headship with. Dumbledore's letter had made no mention of it, and none of her friends had heard any rumours.

As the door to the Prefect's carriage thumped open, Marlene inwardly cursed her curious mind. In the doorway stood Evan Rosier, clad in his emerald-lined robes. The mere sight of him made her skin crawl. Her first thought was one of dread at the sheer futility of the year to come. Her second thought was an almost undesirable urge to stamp her badge into the ground as an act of rebellion. The simmering rage must have crept onto her face, for Rosier smirked.

"Well, well," Rosier said as he strode into the carriage. "If it isn't Miss McKinnon. I was hoping for someone a bit more – " he paused, cocking his head with that same haughty smile on his face. " – fun".

A noise between that of a growl and a scoff of disdain made its way to Marlene's lips. Rosier grinned a bit more widely, knowing he had hit his mark. He pulled his trunk in behind him and gestured vaguely to it. "Want to help?" Marlene folded her arms across her chest and sat defiantly on the seat, staring stonily at the boy who was to be her partner for the _next twelve months_.

"Suit yourself," he said, hauling the trunk above his head and into the rack, scuffing Marlene's own belongings in his process. As he was settling into the seat beside Marlene, she surveyed the boy that was Evan Rosier. He had inherited that chiseled jawline and angular cheekbones that all rich pureblood families seem to possess. He had dark eyes that were rarely touched by warmth from a smile. If ever there was a glint in Evan Rosier's eyes, it would be of malice – or something worse. His dark eyes were matched by his possibly even darker hair, perfectly coiffed; it framed his face and contrasted against the pale of his skin.

Rosier turned to Marlene, who looked away resentfully. "You don't talk much. Do you, McKinnon?"

Marlene crossed her legs beneath her robes and stared stonily at the wall. "When I was eleven, you locked me in a broom cupboard." She heard what she thought might be a chuckle. Marlene whipped her head around and glared at him. It was, indeed, a chuckle. "When I was thirteen, you knocked me off my broom in my first ever Quidditch match. They didn't let me play for a _month._ "

Rosier raised his eyebrows. It was clear that he couldn't care less about her sporting woes. "Are you done?"

Marlene's impassive expression returned, but her trembling voice betrayed her emotion. "Last year, you sent my best friend to the hospital wing for being a muggleborn."

There was a moment of silence. Rosier stared at her coolly. "And I'd do it again."

Anger exploded within Marlene's chest. She jumped to her feet, snatched her wand from beneath her robes and pointed it mercilessly at Rosier's throat. "She nearly _died,_ " Marlene spat.

Rosier sat there, seemingly fearless, and surveyed Marlene. "Put your wand away, McKinnon," he said steadily. "We both know that you don't have it in you."

Marlene's hand quavered, before dropping lamely to her side. A smirk tugged at the corners of Rosier's lips. "You're right, Rosier," she breathed. "I don't enjoy hurting people." Marlene saw his knuckles tighten around what she assumed to be his concealed wand, wondering momentarily whether she had pushed him too far. A knock on the compartment door fragmented the heavy silence. Marlene turned just in time to see a girl with a blonde bob poke her face around the door. The girl glanced between Evan and Marlene, eyeing Marlene's unsheathed wand. For a moment there was silence as the newcomer detected the tension.

"Hi, Marlene," Dorcas Meadows said with forced casualness. "You ready for the Prefects?" Marlene allowed herself a smile directed at Dorcas. She hadn't seen the girl all summer, and Dorcas had this strange calming affect whenever she walked into the room. Rosier was watching the Gryffindor Prefect with unmasked disdain etched into his face.

Marlene allowed the anger to seep out of her, as she subtly pocketed her wand. "Yeah. Are the rest out there? Bring them in, if you would." Marlene reluctantly took her seat beside her fellow Head Prefect, stilling her trembling hands by folding them in her lap. As the remaining prefects filed in, Marlene caught a glimpse of the look on Rosier's face. His lips were curled in a humourless smile, but his eyes were strangely blank. As he got to his feet to welcome the new prefects – in a terribly arrogant way, if she did say so herself –, Marlene wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid face into submission, and maybe break a few bones while she was at it.

* * *

"I still can't believe it," Dorcas said in hushed tones, hugging a pillow to her chest. She was sitting cross-legged on her four-poster bed, swaddled in a velvet dressing gown. "There's no way that Dumbledore doesn't know what he's really like."

Their dormitory was swathed in the flickering glow from fast-dying lamplight. Comatose by the magnificent feast, two girls were already soundly asleep, their hanging curtains shielding them from view. Marlene glanced at the bed adjacent to her own, upon which a tall, willowy girl was lying on her stomach, her eyes staring unfocusedly on the rug in the centre of the room. Mary McDonald completed the trio of Gryffindor girls who had been inseparable ever since they shared a night of rebellion in their second year, in which they snuck out of their dormitories in search of the kitchens. They came back empty-handed, giggling, and with an eternal pledge of friendship.

"Giving that boy power is like throwing petrol on a fire," Dorcas continued. "It's madness."

Marlene breezed over the fact that she had no idea what this 'petrol' was – and what _would_ happen if it was thrown on a fire –, in order to warily observe Mary. Marlene chose her words carefully, watching for her reaction. "He doesn't know Rosier was there that night."

"And it should stay that way," Mary said firmly.

"I don't understand why, Mary!" Marlene said exasperatedly. "If I told McGonagall that I was there and I _saw_ him – "

"I don't want you to," she retorted.

"But, Mary," Dorcas implored, in softer tones. "If someone knew, he might get his Headship taken away. He might even get expelled."

"What, like Mulciber did?" Mary snapped. Dorcas bowed her head, burying her chin in her pillow. Marlene recalled that, for weeks after that night, Mary would pale whenever she walked past emerald-lined robes. She would shrink into herself whenever they had a Potions class in the dungeons. Marlene could only imagine how agonising it was to see Mulciber strut around the corridors, that triumphant leer plastered across his face, as he was let off with a mere week's worth of detention.

Mary sighed heavily, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling. Her fingers remained at the level of her neck, where Marlene knew she was probing a puckered scar with gentle fingertips. "I don't want to talk about it, guys," she said tiredly. "I've made my peace with it, and the last thing I want is to bring it all up again."

"I'm sorry, Mary," Marlene murmured.

Mary brushed her apology away with a wave, rolling onto her stomach once more with a somewhat forced smile on her face. "No apologies," she said. "No more talk of crappy Slytherins."

"No more," Dorcas echoed solemnly.

As the girls readied themselves for bed, Marlene's mind buzzed around the events of that night. Mary had told them that, past Mulciber's curse, she really didn't remember much at all. Had it not been for Marlene stumbling across them whilst searching for her missing friend, they might never have known Rosier was involved. Mary swore she didn't remember him there, his wand unsheathed and his eyes glinting. And Marlene wasn't keen on pressing her for the details. That night, Marlene dreamt of a cold stone floor, a flash of red, and the cruel smirk of Evan Rosier.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.

EDIT (1st July 2016) - this chapter was consolidated with chapter two.


	2. The Muggleborn Who Married The Pureblood

**A/N:** So, this one took a bit longer to get out, so sorry about that. Let me know what you think!

* * *

 **October 1978**

If one had to choose a moment that set their life on a path for its final destination, it would be near impossible. For Marlene, however, the answer was simple. On what was supposed to be an ordinary week in the midst of the semester flourished the roots of the choices that would define her life. It began with a letter.

It was a Wednesday morning and the Great Hall was filled with drowsy students and the muted buzz of half-attempted conversation. She had the morning off as far as classes were concerned, but unfortunately an avalanche of homework as a by-product of the responsibilities of NEWTs prevented a lazy start to the day. As Marlene rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, a deafening rush of beating wings sounded overhead. She barely looked up as owls streamed through the rafters, choosing instead to nurse her lethargy in a cup of black coffee. As a yawn escaped her lips, a tightly rolled scroll fell onto her empty plate. A tawny owl circled a few times before coming to rest on the wooden table, hopping from foot to foot and clearly awaiting some sort of affection. Marlene recognised that owl. With a half smile, she stroked the creature's head and it hooted its appreciation before taking off once more. Turning her attention to the scroll, Marlene pulled apart the wax seal and unrolled it. A familiar flowery handwriting, in emerald green ink, bore a message:

" _Marlene,_

 _I know it's been too long since we last saw each other – and even since we last spoke. It's crazy how time seems to fly when there's no Transfiguration homework deadline and no Head Girl patrols (speaking of which, I hope the post is treating you well! I couldn't have hoped for a better successor)._

 _This isn't a particularly fun letter to write, because I know how you feel about it. But we need you. And not just you, Marls. We need Mary and Dorcas. We need everyone._

 _The others didn't want me to do this, because they don't want you to feel pressured. It is, after all, your own decision. And I know it seems like a terrifying choice to make, and I know you feel like you're too young. I felt the same. I think I need to admit that my asking is motivated in part by selfishness. I feel like I've grown up so much since I graduated, and doing it without you has been terrifying._

 _Just let me know where you are, Marls. If you want, I can come to Hogsmeade some time for a chat._

 _All my love,_

 _Lily_

 _p.s. on a lighter note, I hope you like the invitation! It was, of course, made entirely by me. James doesn't know a thing about colour-ways."_

From within the parchment fell a somehow unbent slip of square parchment; Marlene assumed some crafty magic had been used. It was cream with baby blue borders and swirling calligraphy bearing the names "LILY EVANS AND JAMES POTTER". A smile that somehow matured into a joyous laugh bubbled from Marlene's lips. If someone were to have bet her on the likelihood of Lily and James getting married not a year out of Hogwarts, Marlene would have lost all of her money. But she was happy for them. Exuberantly happy.

And, then, that happiness was curbed as she recalled the original intention of the letter. Marlene could not have been prouder of her friends for what they had committed to. She respected their bravery and their greatness, but she was scared. Not scared in the sense that she feared for her own safety. Rather, it was the safety of her family and friends that she had truly come to dread. Perhaps it was ill-placed superstition; perhaps it was merely bad luck. But Marlene blamed herself for the attack on Mary that fateful night. Had she not incited Mulciber's anger by denouncing his abuse of muggleborns the previous day, he may not have taken out said anger on Marlene's best friend to prove some sort of twisted point.

And then there was her family. Her brother and sister, twins, were only fifteen. What were they going to do if Marlene got herself involved in blatantly adversarial crowds? And her _parents_? Her mother was a muggleborn witch, and if they ever realised how much of her healing expertise she provided intentionally and specifically to muggleborns… Marlene shuddered. Perhaps she was being a coward. Was it still cowardice if it was for the benefit of another? Marlene supposed it was, as fear controlled her actions either way. Wasn't she supposed to be a Gryffindor?

With her mind heavy from _what ifs_ , Marlene dragged herself to her feet, carefully depositing the invitation and the letter in the outside flap of her bag. Before she considered the fate of her own existence, Marlene first needed to turn her attention to a Potions essay with her name on it. And then, perhaps, she needed to work on her priorities.

* * *

"Is it true?" a voice demanded. Marlene glanced up from Advanced Potion Making, the book in which her nose had been buried for the last hour and a half. The library was quiet – it being the second month of term, and all –, but Marlene had escaped to its peaceful confines so that she could wrap her head around Golpallot's Third Law. Such a desire was proving to be fruitless.

Before her stood a fifth year clad in robes lined with blue. Her hair, like Marlene's, was a sprawl of unruly, half-formed curls; it, however, was cut short in a futile attempt at restraint. With arms folded across her chest and eyes filled with burning displeasure, Marlene realised there was no escaping what was about to escalate into a full-blown sibling quarrel.

"Well, hello, baby sister," Marlene said pleasantly, dog-earing her textbook and closing it carefully. "To what do I owe this clearly amicable visit?" Luella McKinnon spread her arms across the wooden table, lowering herself so she was able to hiss at her sister without drawing attention from the surrounding students. "Is it true?" she repeated. "About you and Rosier."

Marlene sighed. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific, sis. If you're talking about him being Head Boy, then –"

"No, I'm not talking about that," she snapped. "I'm talking about you and _him_. I overheard Iris Wilkes talking about it in Herbology. Apparently that Selwyn girl is heartbroken, and she's swearing vengeance."

Marlene looked blankly at her sister. "Look, Lu, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Luella was growing impatient now. She threw down her bag that was slung over her shoulder, scraped a chair back, and sat forcefully down upon it, looking obstinately expectant at her sister. Marlene spread her arms wide in a half-shrug. "If you're not going to tell me, then I – "

"Did you sleep with him?"

" _What_?!" Marlene exploded. A few heads jerked up from their books in surprise at the loud outburst, and somewhere amidst the sea of shelves came a hissed _Shhhh!_. The Gryffindor ignored this, of course, for her head was swimming with a terrible accusation.

"So, it's not true?"

"Of course it's not bloody well true, Luella!" Marlene was fuming to the point that her hands were actually shaking. At least the younger girl had the decency to look a little abashed. "Who's been saying this?"

There was hesitance is Luella's eyes, and something akin to sympathy. "Everyone, Marlene. Even Leo asked me if it was true. He didn't want to ask you himself, on account of it being a pretty… y'know, _private_ subject." Oh, Merlin. The fact that her little brother was hearing rumours of her sordid affair long before she had herself… She was going to kill whoever was responsible. Marlene jumped abruptly to her feet and began shoving textbooks into her bag, her mind racing. _If this is his idea of a joke_ …

"Marlene, wait! Your ink…!" Luella snatched away a loose inkpot before Marlene could shove it into the midst of her bag without screwing on its lid. "Look, maybe you should calm down before you…"

"No, I will not calm down. Not until I sort this out. I mean, _seriously_ , do people not have anything better to do with their lives?" she retorted furiously, stuffing the last of her books away and doing up the clasp with clumsy fingers. "I'll see you later, Lu." And with that, Marlene stormed away. She barely noticed where her feet were taking her as she practically flew down corridors. Anger fuelling her path, Marlene barely avoided knocking a few years over the bannisters of the Grand Staircase.

As she arrived at the Great Hall – with less of a grand entrance than she had intended, for the doors were extremely heavy and didn't burst open quite the way she wanted –, her eyes formed daggers as she located her target. Rosier was splayed across one of the benches, elbows resting atop the table and chin resting atop steepled fingers. A congregation of Slytherins surrounded him. It was as though the rest of the world had melted away; in that moment, she was totally unaware of the scene she was about to cause, and how it would look for a Head Girl to beat the crap out of her fellow Head Prefect in the midst of a study session in the Great Hall. Marlene thundered towards him, becoming slowly aware of the heads that turned upon her arrival. As she approached the gang of idiots, a ripple of acknowledgement swept through them, followed by sniggers of mirth. Rosier grinned at her in that smug and unbearable way she had come to detest.

"McKinnon! To what do I owe this pleasure? I'm as surprised as you are, sweetheart. I didn't even realise you were at the top of my To Do list." A chorus of snickers emanated from the group. The way he spoke to her made her blood boil. Her fingers itched to whip out her wand and wipe that smirk off his face by force. This was most definitely a test in anger management.

"Rosier," she said through gritted teeth. "Can I talk to you? Outside?" With the encouragement of jeering from his gang of fools, Rosier climbed arrogantly to his feet. Marlene turned on heel and stormed off, hearing the footsteps of Rosier close behind.

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" she hissed as soon as they were alone in the Entrance Hall. "Is this supposed to be _funny?_ " Rosier chuckled, as if it was, indeed, supposed to be funny. "Calm down, McKinnon," he said infuriatingly pleasantly. "I actually don't know where this came from. Maybe someone read too much into our midnight patrols."

"Oh, shut up, Rosier," she snapped. "And don't play dumb. I want you to find whoever started this and put an end to it."

"For once, I am actually being honest."

Before Marlene could reply, a screech of rage cut through her concentration, resonating through the previously empty hall. Unbeknownst to Marlene, a few students had stopped to observe the confrontation between their Head Prefects, and even more halted in their tracks at the newest addition to the group. She was a tall, lithe girl whose pale caramel blonde hair swung in waves as she marched towards them. A heart-shaped face played host to bright round eyes, a perfectly proportioned nose and plump lips that were pressed together in tight fury.

"I _knew_ it," the girl spat, eyes narrowed at Rosier.

"Look, Callista, whatever you've heard, I can tell you it's not true." Had this matter not involved her, Marlene might have found such an encounter to be amusing. Rosier looked uncomfortable – an emotion one would not normally associate with such a nonchalant person – and probably rightly so. Callista Selwyn looked as if she wanted to rip a hole in his chest.

"How long has this been going on?" she demanded.

Marlene held her hands up as she began to speak. "I can promise you – "

Before she could get the rest of her words out, a force like a punch to the stomach threw her backwards. The Hall was still ringing with the shriek of a _Stupefy!_ as Marlene landed painfully on the stone floor. What had intended to be a stunning spell had only knocked the wind out of Marlene, who was able to jump furiously – albeit sorely – to her feet. "Put your wand away, Callista!"

A thick crowd had formed, now; it must have been exciting to watch the Head Girl duel with an angry sixth year, and Marlene knew that is exactly what it looked like. She had known that being partnered with Rosier would only lead to drama, and thus far her theory was proving correct.

Someone stepped from the crowd; he was tall and broad, and had the same striking eyes as Callista. Marlene often saw him spending time with Rosier and, before him, Mulciber and Snape. "Stop," Theodore Selwyn said calmly, focusing only on his sister.

She ignored him, and instead whirled on Marlene. "Why everyone keeps thinking you're worth their time is beyond me."

Before Marlene had time to reply, Theodore broke in, his voice sharper than before. "Cal." It was something akin to a warning. Marlene watched as he shot a meaningful look at Rosier, whose eyes betrayed no emotion as they blankly surveyed the irrational girl and her brother.

Ignoring him still, Callista trained her eyes on Marlene as a twisted smile spread across her pretty face. "I hope you like funerals."

" _Callista_." Theodore grabbed her by the arm and pulled her backwards. She snatched herself free, turned on heel, and fled in the general direction of the dungeons. Before Marlene could even process what had happened in that short encounter, there was a flurry of movement among the circle of on looking students. They, themselves, began to flee as a figure marched through the crowd. It was McGonagall. Her lips were pursed and her brow was furrowed. A sinking feeling clawed at the inside of Marlene's stomach as the stern eyes of Professor McGonagall surveyed the chaotic scene and finally came to rest on Marlene. Had she not known better, Marlene thought she might have spied what looked like a flash of pity beneath her square spectacles.

"Miss McKinnon. With me, please."

The sheer inequity of it all! Why did she not want to see Rosier, too? It was almost certainly his fault that Marlene was in this situation in the first place. Swallowing the outbreak of infuriation within, Marlene shot silent daggers at Rosier. She had expected him to look smug, as he often did when something worked in his favour. His face, however, remained blank. There was something in his eyes that unsettled Marlene. For a moment, they stared at one another; then McGonagall cleared her throat. Rosier swept from the Great Hall, following Callista into the dungeons, as Marlene turned and begrudgingly followed McGonagall up the stairs. Instead of marching Marlene to her office, however, McGonagall led her to an altogether unfamiliar office. She rapped her knuckles on the door and entered on invitation from a squeaky voice within. The office was a large room lined with bookshelves surrounding a large oak desk. A handful of portraits stirred lazily as Marlene stepped through the threshold, some shielding their eyes against the sunlight filtering in from the oval windows on the back wall. The newest Head of Ravenclaw House, Professor Flitwick, was stood atop a stool as they entered. He gestured kindly to an empty seat beside two other occupied ones. Two heads obscured by a mass of brown curls turned to face the newcomer – Marlene stared back at Luella and Leo, eyes wide with the same confusion that she saw reflected on her siblings' faces.

"What's going on?" Marlene said curiously.

"Miss McKinnon, if you could take a seat." McGonagall said as she joined Flitwick at the head of the table. She appeared to be uncomfortable. This was a sight Marlene was wholly unfamiliar with; normally, McGonagall was sharply barking orders or just simply emanating a sense of disproval. Once again, what appeared to be sympathy broke at the corners of her pursed lips. Marlene obeyed McGonagall's request and took a seat beside Leo. His chocolate coloured eyes were furrowed in confusion, and he looked at Marlene for what she assumed was an explanation. In response, Marlene merely shrugged.

"There is no easy way to say this," Flitwick said quietly, bowing his head. "There has been an incident. I am so truly sorry, but your parents are… they're gone."

Silence. Deafening, painstaking silence. All Marlene could hear was the sudden spike in her heart rate and her breath that was coming out in ragged spurts. She moved her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"They're – what? I don't understand." Leo's voice was hoarse. Beside her, Marlene noticed his fingernails digging into the arms of the chairs. His skin was white from the effort. She had the urge to cover his fingers with her own, but her brain didn't seem to be connected to her muscles.

There was a moment of silence; Marlene watched as both professors battled inwardly for what words to use. McGonagall cleared her throat. "They were killed. Neighbours contacted the Ministry when the Dark Mark was spotted over the house."

A tremendous, indescribable feeling erupted in the pit of Marlene's stomach. Her skin grew prickly hot, yet icy cold at the same time. She felt the colour drain out of her cheeks until she knew that only sheet white remained. There was a pain in her chest that she had never felt before: an overwhelming feeling of helplessness battling against the urge to scream until it made a difference. And yet she just sat there. She couldn't even focus on the two teachers in front of her because her eyes were swimming in a hazy mist; she couldn't even reach out her hand to console her siblings because it was too heavy to lift.

A sob shattered the hole into which Marlene had withdrawn herself. Feeling crept back into her limbs as her head snapped towards the source of the noise. Luella was sitting with her head in her hands, tears rolling freely onto the stone floor. Leo was watching her in a way that was similarly blank to Marlene's withdrawn state, but with a hand resting gently on her elbow. Marlene jumped to her feet and rushed to Luella's side, encircling her with her arms and pulling her little sister's head to her chest. For a while, the silence was broken only by the progressively louder moans from Luella. Slowly, Leo climbed to his feet and joined his sisters, wrapping his broad arms around the two of them. Sobs began to rack at his body and he buried his face in Marlene's hair as if to hide the shame of crying. Only Marlene remained dry-eyed. For what reason, she did not know. It felt as if the anguish she was feeling had absorbed all the tears in her body; it was replacing them with waves of both fury and absolute desolation. Emptiness. A soul-crushing emptiness that she did not know was possible.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Leo finally broke away. Marlene looked vacantly at her teachers, who were looking compassionately at the scene in front of them with both concern and sadness etched into their tired faces.

"It will be in the papers tomorrow," Flitwick cautioned. "We wanted you to know before the media…" Marlene bowed her head appreciatively.

"What will we do?" Leo's voice was still hoarse. He had returned to his seat and his tall body was hunched over under mountains of pain and sorrow. He looked so fragile.

"Marlene is of age. If you are happy with it, she can become your legal guardian. Whilst there was no Will found, Marlene will receive the McKinnon estate and fortune as per the inheritance laws." McGonagall looked at Marlene as if for validation. In response, Marlene opened her mouth and closed it again. Legal guardian? She didn't even know how to cook. This was too much to deal with.

"We will give you a moment," McGonagall said finally. "I am so very sorry for your loss. I truly am." After a moment of stillness, Flitwick and McGonagall withdrew from the office. McGonagall's words floated in the air, not quite registering with Marlene. What use were words now, anyway? What could they fix? The silence was broken by a fresh wave of sobs reverberating from deep within Luella. Her whole body shook with the anguish.

"It will be okay," Marlene whispered. They were the first words she had spoken since her world was destroyed, and they felt heavy on her lips. Her voice was weak, shaking and faltering with each syllable. The words were false. Leo stared blankly at her, knowing of her dishonesty and yet not having the strength or the willpower to challenge her. They all knew; they were far from okay.

Leo climbed shakily to his feet. Marlene didn't understand how he could have grown so quickly; he practically towered over her, now. And her heart broke all over again. How could she care for him? _She_ needed to be cared for. Who was going to do that?

"Lu, let me take you back to your dormitory," Leo murmured. The youngest of the McKinnons stared wide-eyed at her older – if only by a minute – brother, skin marred by blotches of pink. He offered his hand and she grasped it as if she needed it to live, climbing unsteadily to her feet. Marlene wiped away the wet on Luella's hot cheeks with trembling fingertips, but the act merely provoked a fresh wave of sobs. Marlene felt so helpless in that moment. Within her, a pain was erupting that was so raw it felt as if her chest was being clawed at from the inside. And, yet, she would want that pain to last forever if only it meant that Luella's and Leo's would disappear.

As Leo began to lead Luella from the room, Marlene moved as if to intervene. Letting them go felt so wrong. They needed to be together in this moment. But every time Luella looked at her with an agony so raw in her eyes, Marlene wanted to escape and disappear forever. How could she fix that? When they were young and they stumbled and grazed their knee, their mother would pick them up and brush them down. She would tell them that tears didn't solve pain; only smiles could do that. And they would plaster tearful beams across their little faces, and somehow it worked. The pain would just disappear. Now, Marlene wasn't even sure she remembered how to smile.

"It's okay, Marls," Leo said gently, reacting to Marlene's helplessness. Still grasping Luella's hand tightly, he leant over and pressed his lips comfortingly against Marlene's cheek. "I'll look after her. Go get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

 _Father would be so proud of him_ , Marlene thought desolately as she watched the door close behind her siblings. And that was it. Perhaps it was being alone for the first time, or perhaps it was the suddenly relentless bombardment of childhood memories that tore at her brain. Whatever it was, it had broken the shield. Tears fell thick and fast; they began silently but ultimately burst from her body in an unstoppable wave of violent shaking and weeping. It took minutes before Marlene was able to suppress the sobs, gulping hungrily at the air between judders from her body.

She took a moment to compose herself – smear furiously at the tears beneath her eyes, gracelessly wipe at her nose with the sleeve of her robes, and run her fingers through her hair as if that would fix everything – before leaving the office. It surprised her for a moment that the outside world hadn't simply frozen in place. As she walked the halls, students passed her as if they didn't know what had happened. And of course they didn't. But how could something that tore at every fibre of Marlene's being not at least be recognised by the strangers passing her in the corridors?

Despite having set course for the Gryffindor Common Room, something nagged at Marlene that made her change her route. A feeling of unease crawled across her skin. Something pressed at her mind, begging her to recall something. And then, like a dark cloud, the memory descended heavily. _I hope you like funerals._ Her feet pounded on the stone beneath them as the words flew about her brain. _I hope you like funerals_. She knew. Callista knew because someone had planned it. _Selwyn_. Marlene's mother had told her about him. About the boy who terrorised the students of Hogwarts in her days. Who had taken a special interest in the young muggleborn girl who ended up marrying a pureblood. They knew. Their family knew.

She was flying through the corridors now. A fury that scared even her was pulsing through Marlene's veins. The door to the owlry flew open as she threw her weight behind it, sending a group of nearby owls into a frenzied panic. Marlene ripped out Lily's letter from the depths of her bag and turned it onto its back, snatched a quill from her bag and drowned it in ink.

 _"I'm in."_

Two words. She scratched them into the parchment, no explanation warranted. She tied it to the nearest free owl and sent it soaring into the dusky sky. As she watched it shrink into the distance, she heard the thumping of her heart in time to the beating of the bird's wings. And with every thump and with every beat she heard each word pounding in her brain. _I hope you like funerals_.


	3. Dutch Courage

**A/N:** I'm sorry this one took so long to get out! I struggled with some of the settings. I didn't want it to seem too forced. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. As always, please let me know if you have any critiques!

* * *

 **November 1978**

Sunlight filtered through a gap in the velvet drapes, dust motes swirling almost tauntingly. Marlene groaned, willing the light to disappear so that she could remain swathed, undisturbed, beneath the bundle of warm blankets. The curtains hung heavily, shielding her from the rest of the dormitory and enveloping her in ruby-tinged darkness. Except for that damned shaft of light. Marlene rolled over and pushed herself into a sitting position, wiping the sleep from her eyes and stifling a yawn. And then she remembered her parents were dead.

That was how it had been for the last two mornings. She had awoken almost peacefully, with consciousness replacing dreaming in that hazy way that it does. And then she would remember. And then she would slump back into her pillows. And she would remain in her bed, hiding from the sunlight and the prying eyes of pitiful classmates.

From beyond her barricade of velvet, Marlene could hear the bustle of what she assumed to be her roommates readying themselves for a day of classes. But it was Saturday, was it not? Or maybe it was Friday. She didn't know. And she didn't really care. Marlene listened as her roommates exchanged words in hushed voices. They spoke for a minute, and then fell silent.

A timid voice spoke more audibly, coming from just beside Marlene's four-poster bed. "Marlene?" The voice belonged to Dorcas. There was a moment of silence as Marlene contemplated answering, and Dorcas prayed that she would.

"Marlene, do you want to get breakfast? You didn't eat at all yesterday and… and we're worried about you."

She didn't want breakfast. And while she was truly grateful for the support from her friends over the last two days, Marlene didn't want to talk to them either. She didn't have anything to say. So she just stayed quiet. The silence continued, until Mary bravely broke it.

"Marls, you need to get out of bed," she said firmly. Marlene wished the pillow she held against her face could drown out their incessant compassion. Mary cleared her throat. "It's not good for you. And you need to check on Leo. He's been getting into – "

"Mary!" Dorcas hissed.

"What?! She would want to know," Mary retorted.

"You'll just make her more worried. Just let her – "

Dorcas was cut short by the parting of the drapes around Marlene's bed. They stared, suddenly bewildered, their mouths still agape from their discussion.

"Where is he?" Marlene's voice croaked from lack of use, so she reached for a glass of water to dampen her cracked lips.

Dorcas shook her head apologetically. "I only saw him yesterday at dinner. He's probably going to Hogsmeade, though. I think I overheard a bunch of – "

"The trip is today?" Marlene interjected.

Dorcas nodded. On Marlene's bedside table lay a half-forgotten reply from Lily. It had arrived almost instantly after the first outbreak in the media of the news of her parents' deaths. It pleaded Marlene to meet with her at the first Hogsmeade visit, and of course contained a torrent of sympathy and kindness. Marlene had wept so much when Mary brought it to her that the parchment edges had started to crumble.

It seemed to take her friends by surprise when Marlene jumped into action. She threw on her robes, dragged a brush through her hair and splashed her face with cool water in a vain attempt to rid her eyes of that perpetual red tinge.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Dorcas asked tentatively.

Marlene shook her head as she pulled on her boots and retrieved her wand from beneath the mass of blankets on her bed. Before she turned to leave, Mary halted in front of her and pulled Marlene into a hug. She didn't say anything; she just wrapped her arms around Marlene's shoulders and held her tightly. It took all of Marlene's energy not to burst into tears.

"Thank you," she mumbled into Mary's shoulder. With her one free hand, she reached across and squeezed Dorcas' smaller one. "Thank you both for being there. You've been amazing and I've just…" Dorcas silenced Marlene's attempt at an explanation by joining the embrace.

"You have nothing to thank us for," Mary said as they broke apart. Marlene was overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude; without the two of them, she would have likely gone insane. "We'll walk with you to Hogsmeade."

As they made their way through the castle, Marlene was acutely aware of those students whose eyes rested on her for a little longer than usual, and who whispered behind their hands as she passed. She could feel Mary tense beside her, and she knew that the girl was using all of her energy not to hex the intrigue out of them. The thought of her fingers wrapped around her wand beneath her robes was almost enough to make Marlene smile. Almost.

* * *

Rain had started falling by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade. Dorcas and Mary bade their farewells and disappeared into the swell of warmth radiating from The Three Broomsticks. With her hood drawn over her face, Marlene rushed through the village, taking care to avoid the small puddles that materialised on the cobbled ground. She continued onwards until the buildings began to thin out, focusing on identifying the place that Lily had described in her letter. Marlene pushed open the door to the Hog's Head and stepped inside, shedding her cloak and running a finger through her rain-tangled hair. The quiet buzz of conversation from a nearby table ceased. One patron jumped to her feet when she spotted Marlene. Lily Evans' auburn hair fell in thick waves around her face, which was fixed with concern and sadness. She was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a simple green jumper. Lily rushed towards the doorway and embraced Marlene, her hands protectively cradling her younger friend's head. No words were spoken, because no words were necessary.

"Hey, Marls," Lily murmured as she pulled away.

"Hey, Lils."

The bar was dingy and dark and mostly empty, save for the man at the bar and the solitary figure seated at the rough wooden table that Lily was pulling Marlene towards. Remus Lupin climbed to his feet as Marlene approached, and he looked at her with sadness in his eyes.

"Marlene, I'm so sorry." His voice was quiet and unassuming. They had been Prefects together and Remus was one of the kindest people that Marlene knew. She dipped her head in gratitude and gave him a weak smile.

"Hey, McKinnon."

The familiar voice made Marlene's stomach jolt. She turned to face Sirius Black, who had returned to the group with a tray of drinks balanced atop his hands. The sight of his grey eyes, creased at the corners by his almost permanent-grin, sent waves of emotion through Marlene. She had thought she loved him, once. He had kissed her when she was fifteen, and for weeks she couldn't think of anything else. When she realised her infatuation was simply puppy love, her relationship with him developed into unwavering friendship instead. Sirius reminded her of warmth and comfort and safety. He placed the tray on the table and held out his arms. Marlene stepped into his embrace, crumbling against his torso.

"Hey, yourself," she murmured into his chest.

"I think," he said softly, pulling back an inch so as to look at Marlene's shielded face. "It's time for a drink."

The closest thing to a laugh that Marlene could muster fell from her lips. It was a noise somewhat between a chuckle and a cry, but it was driven by humour nonetheless. Trust Sirius to solve her problems with the offer of alcohol. Against her best judgment, Marlene gratefully accepted a vial of firewhisky from Sirius's outstretched hand, before shuffling on to the empty stool beside Remus. Sirius sat beside Lily and distributed the remaining glasses.

"To Eros and Ada McKinnon," he said, solemnly raising his tumbler in salute. With a lump in her throat, Marlene clinked hers against his. The others followed suit and echoed Sirius's sentiment.

"To mum and dad." Marlene whispered. Her eyes were unfocusedly trained on the candle stub on the tabletop as she took a gulp of the amber liquid. It slid down her throat, leaving a trail of fire as it went, and she shuddered in response. The heat spread to her fingertips before settling in her stomach. Lily reached out and squeezed Marlene's hand.

"James sends his love, Marls," Lily said apologetically. "He would have come, but he Dumbledore asked him to…" Lily trailed off awkwardly.

"I want to talk about the Order," Marlene said suddenly.

The graduates exchanged a look. They all knew that this was the reason they were there, but no one had wanted to broach the subject. It all seemed too raw.

"Marlene," Remus began hesitantly. "We don't want you to feel like you have to because of what has happened. We want you to be able – "

"No," Marlene interrupted. "I've made my decision. You all have your reasons for joining; this is mine."

"It doesn't have to be now," Lily added gently.

"No." Marlene said, a bit more firmly. "I want to do something. I don't want anyone else to feel like this. Ever." The silence that followed was full of unspoken words. Marlene swallowed a mouthful of liquid fire, relishing the warmth it provided.

"That's that," Sirius said finally. Lily shot him an exasperated look. "What?! She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions. I, for one, can't wait to see the scum suffer for what they've – "

" _Sirius_!"

Sirius shrugged, grinning, and downed his drink in one. Lily shook her head disbelievingly. Inadvertently, Marlene chuckled. This felt so natural. Had it not been for the traumatic circumstances, this would have felt like their school days together.

"So, how can I help?" Marlene said, tracing the rim of her glass with a fingertip.

"We need someone inside Hogwarts," Remus said carefully. "We need to know who Voldemort is recruiting."

The words that had plagued her for the last two days clawed at her mind with a vengeance. "Well," Marlene said quietly. "I can tell you one for sure. Just before I found out about my parents, Callista Selwyn had some choice words for me." Marlene hadn't told anyone about this encounter – not even Dorcas or Mary. She felt suddenly afraid to explain, because speaking it aloud confirmed that they had been involved. That her parents had been murdered, and school children were revelling in it. Marlene took a deep breath and repeated the words that Callista had mocked her with.

Lily's sharp intake of breath was drowned out as Sirius spat out the word " _Bastards_." Marlene didn't look at his face, but she could see Remus' fingers tightening around his glass.

"You don't think – "

"Callista had nothing to do with this," Sirius said, interrupting Lily's horrified whisper. "She's a spoiled brat, and doesn't care for anything beyond her own vanity. Theodore, though…" Sirius trailed off, shaking his head. "He's dangerous. He spends all of his time with the Carrows. Nasty pieces of work."

"You think he was involved?" Remus challenged.

"No, not necessarily. But I think his father was, and I think his father is probably sculpting him into a good little Death Eater."

In order to still the shaking of her hands, Marlene folded them in her lap. "His father used to terrorise my mum. He made her life a living hell when she was at Hogwarts. I guess Theodore is heading in the same direction."

Sirius swore loudly under his breath. The desire for retribution rolled off him in angry waves as he leapt to his feet. "I'm getting more drinks," he announced before striding towards the bar. Remus and Lily seemed dumbfounded, stunned into silence by the reality that the war had clawed its way through the barricades of Hogwarts, and would slowly tear people apart, one school-child at a time.

The silence in the empty pub was broken by an apparently heated conversation that Sirius was having with the bartender. Marlene watched as he waved his arms around in anger; the barman listened to Sirius's hissed tones carefully whilst pouring drinks from a dusty bottle. When he was finished, the barman threw a rag over one arm, picked up a fresh tray of drinks and headed for their table, with Sirius striding behind him.

"So, you're the young lass whose parents were just murdered," the man said as he placed the tray of drinks atop the table, swiping at the empty one with his spare hand. Streaks of brunette that had presumably survived from his youth peppered his otherwise grey mass of hair and stringy beard. He surveyed Marlene from behind dirty spectacles with brilliantly blue eyes.

"Aberforth," Remus reproached sharply. "Sensitivity would be appreciated."

The statement hadn't actually offended Marlene. This bearded stranger was the first who hadn't trodden on eggshells around her. Lily shook her head incredulously as Aberforth shrugged. "Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"

"Marlene, this is Aberforth Dumbledore," Lily said swiftly. "Aberforth, this is Marlene McKinnon."

Aberforth wiped his hand on his dirty apron and extended it to Marlene. "Good to meet you, Marlene McKinnon," he said gruffly. Marlene shook his hand, feeling the hard, calloused skin beneath her own. "Hear you're our newest recruit."

"Yes," she said numbly.

Aberforth nodded his head, paused, and then added: "You kids don't stay in here too long. You'll drink me outta' all my best whisky."

"Thanks, man," Sirius said quietly as he retook his place at the table. Sirius without a grin was like daytime without the sun. It was unsettling. He used to be able to put on a front, but the state of the world was too much for even Sirius Black to swallow.

"We meet at Alastor Moody's place, most of the time," Remus explained. "But, seeing as you won't be able to get there until you graduate, Aberforth has given us permission to use the pub sometimes."

Marlene reached for another glass of firewhisky and took a sip thoughtfully, bracing herself against the inadvertent wince that followed. The stuff really was disgusting. But it was comforting and was giving her brain this light, tingly feeling.

"Have you spoken to Dorcas and Mary?" Lily asked.

"I have," Marlene said slowly. "They want to be involved. They always have done. But I didn't want to bring them here today. I didn't want them to feel obliged to make a decision based on me." Lily nodded empathetically.

"How is Mary?" Remus inquired.

"She's fine. But she acts braver than she feels."

"I'm still going to make him pay for that," Sirius growled. "Mulciber. One day."

"Would you stop with all this vengeance talk?!" Lily admonished suddenly. "It does not help the matter."

"Feels good though," Sirius muttered. "What about that Rosier kid? He's a shoo-in for evil, surely."

"He got Head Boy."

"You're kidding!" Remus exclaimed.

"Sometimes I think Dumbledore is a bit too ambitious with his whole "give-the-messed-up-kid-a-chance-to-change" approach," Sirius said with a disbelieving shake of his head. "Well, you'll be able to keep an eye on him, Marls."

"Lucky me," she grumbled.

"You gotta' start taking one for the team," Sirius retorted with a grin. "This is serious Order business, now."

Marlene showed what she thought of Sirius's teamwork with a swift kick to the shins beneath the table. " _Ow!_ "

Marlene smiled playfully and proceeded to finish her second drink. Maybe it was the company, or maybe it was just the alcohol; either way, her heart didn't feel quite so heavy.

"I better get home before James sets fire to the kitchen, again," Lily said with a sigh, climbing to her feet. "The man can produce a fully-fledged patronus, but he can't work a stove. Go figure." She swallowed the last of her drink and pulled a face. "Marlene, write me soon, okay?"

Marlene nodded, a grateful smile atop her lips. "Thank you, Lily."

Lily brushed off her gratitude by circling round the table and giving Marlene a tight squeeze around her shoulders. "You take care of yourself." She headed towards the door, pausing only momentarily to throw back over her shoulder, "And, boys, James wants you round for dinner tomorrow night, if you can make it."

"Thank you, Lily," Remus said warmly. "Tell James we'll be there." And, with a final wave, Lily Evans disappeared into the street beyond.

"Come on, McKinnon," Sirius said. "We'll walk you back to the castle."

* * *

Walking alongside Remus and Sirius through the village, hearing them banter with one another – with the occasional admonishment from Remus every time that Sirius said something offensive –, felt so right. And, yet, it filled her with unspeakable sadness that something so innocent could be marred by that omnipresent threat. The unspoken terror. The violence. It loomed over them like an impending storm. Is this how it was always going to be? Was Marlene really going to spend the rest of her days on the brink of smiling, to then catch herself and remember what she had lost?

For now, Marlene thought, as she looped her arm through Sirius's, she would smile and enjoy the company.

Dark clouds had knitted themselves across the sky, threatening a further downpour. Despite the foreboding weather, the lane was choked with students as the trio approached The Three Broomsticks. And there was a reason. Pinned to the wet ground by a seventh year Slytherin sat astride his chest, was Marlene's brother. His nose was bloodied by the fist that was raining down across his face. _"LEONARD!_ "

She flew towards the scene, grabbing the unknown assailant by the shoulders. She barely made a ripple against his attack; instead, the boy's elbow smashed unforgivingly against her cheek. Before she had time to react to the pain, a jet of sparks lifted the boy from his knees and slammed him into a bench a few feet away. Sirius's wand was drawn; his eyes were furious and his lips were peeled apart in a snarl. Marlene fell to her knees beside her brother and helped him into a sitting position. Puddles of blood emerged from grazes across his face, and bruises like smudges peppered his skin. Leonard spat out a mouth full of blood before wiping his lips with the sleeve of his cloak. Remus hurried over and dropped to the ground, grabbing Leonard's chin with his fingertips; he muttered a quick _Lumos_ and began examining the damage done.

"Are you okay?" Marlene said desperately.

"I'm fine." He retorted bluntly, wincing as Remus manoeuvred his face.

"His nose might be broken," Remus said matter-of-factly. "We should get him to the hospital wing."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" came a snarl. Sirius had grabbed the assailant by the collar of his cloak and was pressing a wand threateningly into his stomach. Elijah Travers smirked back at him, seemingly unconcerned by the fire in Sirius Black's eyes.

"Sirius," Marlene pleaded. "Leave him."

"You heard the girl," Travers panted, struggling to overcome having the wind knocked out of him.

"Padfoot," Remus said warningly, after helping Leonard to his feet. "Don't."

With something akin to a growl, Sirius released Travers. The boy smirked and smoothed down his cloak. He was either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid.

"Everyone move along," Marlene shouted angrily at the amassed crowd. She jumped to her feet and began dispersing the swarm of mesmerised students. "Get inside, or make your way back to Hogwarts. _Now_."

The order from the Head Girl seemed to catch everyone's attention. The crowd thinned, hurrying over one another to re-enter the Three Broomsticks or scurry out of the village. Only a handful of people remained. Besides Travers stood Evan Rosier.

"Are you _kidding_ me?!" she shrieked, whirling on Rosier. "You were here the whole time and you just _watched_?!"

The corner of Rosier's lips twitched into a smile. Marlene's blood boiled.

"Marlene, stop it," Leonard called hoarsely. The napkin he was holding to his nose was growing steadily more crimson, and frustration was replacing the embarrassment of having his honour defended by his big sister in public.

"Sirius," Marlene said through her teeth, not taking her eyes off Rosier. "Could you and Remus escort my brother to the hospital wing?"

The two men exchanged a look. "Please?" she added forcefully.

With unease etched into their faces, Remus and Sirius steered Leonard up the path. On his way past, Sirius paused, towering over Travers. "You so much as lay a finger on either of them," he breathed. "I will kill you."

"Damn blood traitor," Travers hissed, as soon as Sirius was out of earshot.

"Travers," Marlene said quietly. "Leave. Now."

Travers took a step forward so that he was blocking Marlene's line of sight to Rosier. "And what are you going to do without your boyfriend to protect you, McKinnon?"

"On top of putting you in a week's worth of detention?"

Travers snorted at the threat. It was all Marlene had, really. She could feel his warm breath on her face, and it sent inadvertent shivers to her shoulder blades. His eyes were dark and full of malice; fingers of fear clawed at her stomach.

"You're not even worth it," he said softly. "Are you coming, Rosier? I've wasted enough time on this family."

Rosier had surveyed the interaction with something akin to interest. "No," he said simply. "You go on."

Travers shot him an incredulous look. "Fine," he said moodily, before turning on heel and disappearing after Sirius, Remus and Leonard.

They were alone. Despite only being mid-afternoon, the angry rainclouds cast a shadow over the village, swathing it in gloom and greyness. "How could you let him do that?" Marlene's voice was small. It wasn't accusative, nor was it angry. It was a genuine inquiry as to how one human being could let another be treated so awfully without doing _anything_ to stop it.

Something flashed across Rosier's face. At first, Marlene thought it was fear. And then she remembered whom she was dealing with. As quickly as it arrived, it disappeared. His face hardened as he stared stonily past her. And suddenly: "Do you want a drink?"

Did she hear him right? Surely not. But before she had the chance to process the words she had clearly missed, he turned on heel and strode towards The Three Broomsticks. Marlene was left, her jaw hanging open, in complete confusion. And then anger replaced the confusion. He was _not_ getting out of this. He _would_ answer her, and he _would_ apologise for standing by and watching her brother get the crap beat out of him. Fuming, Marlene stormed after her Head Boy.

" _Rosier_!" she hissed.

But he ignored her and disappeared inside the pub. Seething with incredulity, Marlene followed Rosier into the inn and watched as he approached the bar. The place was warm and cosy – a stark contrast to the Hog's Head – and was occupied by many a smiling patron. Most of the students had disappeared, however. It was getting late and the curfew was drawing nearer. She couldn't do anything but wait lamely until Rosier returned with two vials of liquid. He thrust one into her hands. "It's gin," he said, before swallowing his in one.

"I am not _drinking_ with you Rosier. Are you trying to drive me insane?"

Rosier raised his eyebrows. "Well, if you don't want it…"

In what she had intended to be a one-up against Rosier, Marlene chucked the contents of the vial to the back of her throat. It was bitter and warm and she spluttered after swallowing. Rosier smirked as if satisfied by her poor display of drinking.

"I'm not thanking you," she said bluntly.

"I wasn't expecting you to."

She snatched the vial from his hand and slammed them both down on the nearest table, before storming out of the pub. The alcohol was spreading into her fingertips, and on top of what she had already drank that day, Marlene was beginning to feel a bit woozy.

Rosier was laughing by the time he fell out into the street. He began sauntering up the path, in the direction of the castle that loomed in the distance. Marlene strode furiously after him. And then she forgot why she was even angry. The frustration melted out of her, and she just walked. They walked in silence for a while, side-by-side, and not clawing each other's eyes out. Until the words tumbled from his mouth.

"I'm sorry about your parents."

He said it so bluntly, so brusquely. Marlene's heart jumped into her throat. "No, you're not."

Rosier halted. His face betrayed a mix of emotions: indignation on the one hand at Marlene's challenge, and anger on the other for letting such a sentiment slip. She turned to face him, and his eyes bore into her own; when he looked at her like that, Marlene felt like her mind was on display for him to peruse.

"You're not sorry, Rosier," she said quietly. "None of you are."

"You think I had something to do with it?"

"I think you all had something to do with it. As far as I'm aware, you are all responsible. You keep hanging around with those people and, soon enough, you'll be murdering someone's parents all by yourself."

Rosier flinched as if he had been slapped. Marlene wanted him to lash out. She wanted him to hex her or curse her or scream until he was red in the face. But he just watched her.

"You're not even going to deny it?" her voice was suddenly choked with emotion. She could feel her throat closing up and her eyes prick with tears.

"I am sorry they're dead," he repeated.

And then the tears fell. Hot and fast. "Well, I don't forgive you." And before he could say another insincere word, Marlene turned on her heel and fled towards the castle, with Evan Rosier's agonising apologies ringing in her ears.


	4. Scars are Building Blocks

**December and January 1978**

In the midst of the Christmas holidays, two thoughts plagued Marlene's mind. First, who decided that a funeral three days before Christmas would be a good idea? Marlene had spent that morning helping prefects hang ornaments on the colossal-sized trees that stood proudly in the Great Hall, to then spend the afternoon burying her parents. Marlene and her siblings had stood in a graveyard amongst their closest family and friends, with the sound of carolling dancing on the wind and the twinkle of fairy lights on the horizon.

Earlier that month, Marlene had hunted down Leonard in the corridors. She had pulled him aside and adamantly demanded that he tell her why she had found him in a _fistfight_ with Elijah Travers.

"I mean, you have a _wand_ ," she had said incredulously. "In those circumstances, you disarm him and _walk away_."

"Just leave it, Marlene," he had retorted heatedly.

"Not until you tell me what possessed you to – "

"I'm sick of it! I'm sick of their taunts and their jokes. I'm sick of Slytherins and their bigotry. I can't stand it."

She had looked at him then. Really looked at him. The cut had healed and his bruises were beginning to fade. And, yet, he seemed to have aged well beyond his young fifteen years, with eyes that had seen too much and a soul that was too heavy. He wasn't a baby, anymore. The thought ripped at Marlene's heart.

Luella, on the other hand, had withdrawn. Marlene had tracked her down the Monday after the Hogsmeade trip. She was going from class to class, quiet and reserved. Her face was pale and drawn. She barely spoke when Marlene expressed her concern; she just looked at her – or rather just past her – with unfocused eyes. Christmas wasn't the same that year. Of course, the Christmas Feast had, as always, been magical. Fairies danced around the Hall, flitting in and out of the starry night sky and, every once in a while, students would be caught unawares by a cloud of blue smoke exploding from their cracker. But it just wasn't the same.

The second thought she had that day was whether or not McGonagall hated her. Her Head of House had approached her at breakfast and had requested – or, rather, demanded – that her and Rosier complete extra patrol shifts that evening. Apparently, one of the assigned Prefects had fainted at the sight of the cracker mice, smacked their head on the table on the way down, and required immediate treatment in the Hospital Wing.

As she made her way to the fourth floor corridor – a neutral meeting area for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to begin a circuit of the castle –, Marlene found herself chewing her lip in frustration. She had avoided Rosier ever since he had seen her cry, even going as far as swapping some of her patrol shifts with innocent prefects from Hufflepuff. She had asked McGonagall if she could complete tonight's patrols with Dorcas, but her professor had refused.

So, there she was. Awaiting the arrival of a person she hated, so she could spend the evening teeming with abhorrence and snarky comments. She waited. And she waited. She waited for almost an hour, stewing over the torrent of pent-up fury she would unleash on him when he finally arrived. When it reached an hour, Marlene gave up. She would do the patrols on her own.

"McKinnon!"

Marlene whirled around to see Rosier sauntering up the otherwise empty corridor. He had a grin plastered across his face. Hers, in comparison, was blank and hard.

"You're an hour late," she said bluntly as he halted in front of her.

"Aw, but it's Christmas."

Rosier seemed to be too happy. And his words were slurred. Not to mention the smell of –

"Are you _drunk_?!"

"Like I said," Rosier said, his words dripping with sickly condescension. "It's Christmas. Merlin, don't you do anything fun?" From within his robes, Rosier pulled an expensive-looking miniature bottle of dark liquid, dressed in a black ribbon.

" _Rosier_ ," she hissed, throwing a quick look over her shoulder. "Are you trying to get us expelled? You're the _HEAD BOY_ , for Merlin's sake."

"God, you're so boring," he sighed, unscrewing the top and taking a swig.

Marlene stared disbelievingly, her jaw slack from the sheer stupidity of this boy. "Get in there," she demanded, pushing him towards a closed door. She whispered a quick _Alohomora_ and shoved in the inebriated Slytherin, who was more concerned with the drop of alcohol that had escaped its bottle than the innocent second year who was coming around the corner. Marlene darted inside the empty classroom and slammed the door behind her, seemingly drawing no attention from anyone outside.

"I think you have a problem," she said furiously, turning on Rosier. He was perched on the side of a desk and he was watching her with infuriating amusement on his face. "I'm serious. Is this all you can do? Drink?"

"It's the best thing _to_ do," he countered arrogantly. "Oh, stop acting like it's a big deal. Grow up."

Marlene was affronted; his good-humour-turned-sour retort had actually stung.

"You're unbelievable," she muttered, shaking her head.

Rosier laughed humourlessly and dragged a hand through his hair. "You want some, McKinnon? It might lighten you up a bit. The last time I saw liquor in you, I actually saw you smile."

"Piss off, Rosier."

"Oh, come on," he mocked. "I bet you need something to numb the pain."

All she could do was stare at him. How _dare_ he? "You can do the patrols on your own," she murmured, disgusted. And she turned on heel and headed for the door.

"Okay, look," he said quietly. "That was a bit harsh. It wasn't supposed to come out like that. I'm just saying, it helps."

Marlene paused with her fingertips on the door handle, halted by intrigue, yet still smarting from his callousness. She turned back to face him and leant against the wood. "What pain do _you_ have?"

Rosier's expression froze; a flash of momentary fear, the same type she saw that day in Hogsmeade, replaced it. And then it was gone. "I don't," he said quickly, with forced casualness. And then he added, angrily: "You people – you preach tolerance but you're so damned quick to judge."

Taken aback, Marlene stared. "I know enough about you to feel completely secure in my judgements, Rosier."

Rosier scoffed at that. "You know _nothing_ about me."

"No sob story about your less than perfect childhood is going to make me think better of you."

He jerked as if he had been slapped. "God, you're insufferable," he breathed. "And you need to get off your damned pedestal."

"I don't terrorise people," she spat. "I don't _torture_ people!"

Rosier watched Marlene as she breathed heavily, incensed by their confrontation. His face betrayed no emotion. Instead of answering, he swallowed a mouthful from his flask. That was the last straw. Marlene strode towards him and snatched that stupid flask from his grip and slammed it on the table, showering them both with a burst of sticky liquid. If he was angry, he didn't show it. He just watched her. Oh, how she hated how he did that. She hated that so much. He shifted slightly, repositioning himself on the desk.

"Come here," Rosier said quietly. She was already standing quite close to him; any closer and she would feel his breath on her. Something like fear pressed against her chest, snaking into her stomach and filling it with unease. "Just come here," he repeated impatiently; he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close such that the gap between them vanished. He didn't let go of her wrist. Instead, he slipped their hands beneath his robe and hitched up the t-shirt he wore underneath, revealing his lower abdomen. In one swift moment, he pressed Marlene's hand against the bare skin. Embarrassment manifested itself in a deep crimson that spread across her cheeks; she was moments away from snatching back her hand, when something against her fingertips made her pause. It was a ridge of hard, puckered skin. Perplexed, Marlene's eyes met Rosier's. He was watching her carefully.

"I was caught in the cross-fire when my father attacked my mother. He was drunk out of his mind and didn't realise he was killing her. He didn't realise I was bleeding, either. Curses like that leave their mark."

Marlene had frozen, her lips parted and her eyes unblinking.

"When he snapped back to reality," Rosier continued calmly. "He turned to me and said ' _How could you let me do that?_ '" Rosier paused. "I was nine." Rosier's story achieved the effect he had intended. He dropped Marlene's wrist like it was ablaze. Dazed, speechless, frozen, she watched him as he stood up.

"But, I forgot," he said simply. "Monsters like me don't get to have sob stories." And with that, Rosier left her alone.

* * *

Days passed. Marlene kept herself busy over the holidays. She spent her days withering away in the library, surrounded by NEWT students who were sensible enough to stay at school over the break. Occasionally, she would be dragged outside by Mary and Dorcas, who both deemed it a sin not to have at least one snowball fight before the weather changed. She spent evenings with Luella, trying to get her to talk about her grief, coaxing plans for the future from her stubborn lips. She would be a NEWT student, soon, and she needed someone to hound her to make life choices.

"A healer, like mum," she had whispered.

The Christmas holidays disappeared as quickly as they had appeared; before Marlene could even blink, the corridors of Hogwarts were once more swarming with students. Where was the time going?

And, of course, there was Rosier.

Marlene couldn't stop thinking about him. His face, emotionless and steady, would incessantly plague her mind, alongside the memory of that calm, matter-of-fact voice with its almost clinical lilt. Against every fibre of her intelligence, Marlene's heart reached out to him. She imagined him, a nine-year-old child, small and scared… And the questions. So many questions. What had happened to his father? Was she the first person he had told?

"Are you even listening?"

Marlene snapped back to the present. She was perched on a stool, elbows resting on the table and chin resting atop her hands. Beside her, Mary was holding a textbook in one hand and porcupine quills in the other. The oval-shaped dungeon room was packed with NEWT students and the buzz of chatter over the occasional _hiss_ from a brewing potion.

"What?" Marlene said blankly.

Looking suspiciously at her partner, Mary gestured with her chin towards their potion; it was gently simmering and emitting golden spirals of steam. "Quills or beans?"

"Oh! Quills. And then stir it."

From their seats at the back of the room, Marlene could survey the whole class. Rosier's head was bent over his own work; every so often, Travers would say something and he would laugh. She couldn't seem to shake the unyielding apprehension. And, she couldn't help it, but Marlene couldn't stop staring at his waistline. The feeling of that scar beneath her fingertips haunted her.

In the same way that Marlene had gone out of her way to avoid him, Rosier had started swapping patrol shifts, or simply not turning up at all. Most of the time, some snarky Slytherin fifth year would take his place, and Marlene would have to sit through hours of spoiled-brat syndrome, trying her hardest not to throttle the girl. If Marlene ever saw Rosier in the corridors, he would just look straight through her, as if she didn't exist.

"Marlene! What is wrong with you today?" Mary said sharply, interrupting her thought stream.

"Sorry," Marlene said hurriedly. "Sorry, sorry. Stir it anti-clockwise."

"Yes, I know," Mary said impatiently. "How many times?"

"Oh. Four."

"Why are you so out of it?" she pressed, carefully mixing the concoction and counting prudently on her fingers.

"I don't know," Marlene said with a forcibly casual shrug. "Just tired, I guess."

"Well, can you save the tiredness until after we brew this thing? I can't afford to muck up another assignment."

"Yeah, sure," Marlene said vaguely. "Sorry. Okay, sopohorous beans next."

By the time the lesson was up, Mary and Marlene had managed to brew a satisfactory Elixir to Induce Euphoria. Of course, Mary had done most of the work. Marlene had almost added a second handful of shrivelfig as opposed to wormwood whilst gazing dreamily out of the window. Exasperatedly, Mary had snatched away the ingredients from Marlene's dangerous hands and told her to sit down and touch nothing. Marlene had willingly complied. As they were packing away their things, Marlene watched as Rosier approached Professor Slughorn.

"Marls, you coming?" Mary had slung her bag over her shoulder and was heading towards the door.

"You go on," Marlene assured. "I just need to talk to Slughorn about something."

"Alright, well I'll see you in dinner. I'm not waiting for you before I eat, though. I'm starving."

Marlene laughed. "Fair enough, Mary."

Hovering silently by the back table, Marlene went apparently unnoticed by Rosier as he thanked Slughorn and exited from the door next to the basins. This was her chance, she thought, and she darted out after him into the empty dungeon corridor.

"Rosier, wait!"

He glanced over his shoulder and looked almost exasperated when he saw her. "No," he said sharply. "I'm busy."

"You have somewhere to be other than dinner?"

Rosier sighed and stopped in his tracks. "What do you want, McKinnon?"

"I just wanted to talk," she said lightly.

"There's nothing to talk about." He seemed impatient. Or maybe it wasn't impatience. Maybe it was discomfort.

"I want to know why you've been avoiding me."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't plan my day around you."

"I just wanted to talk about – "

"There is _nothing_ to talk about," he snapped, his eyes lighting up with anger. "I wanted to avoid this damned therapy session that I knew you'd be so adamant on giving. I was drunk, for Merlin's sake. Don't kid yourself into thinking that I said those things because I feel _comfortable_ around you. I said those things because I was blind drunk. And you were pissing me off."

Marlene snapped her mouth shut as indignation exploded inside of her, countered only by a strange and unfamiliar feeling of sadness.

"And, I swear to God, if you tell a _soul_ about what I said to you…" he breathed, taking a step towards her so that she could feel the threat rolling off him in waves.

"You'll do to me what you did to Mary?" she whispered.

And, then, Rosier did something vile. He laughed. "One day, your friend will thank me for that."

Skin cracked against skin as Marlene slapped Rosier with all the force that she had. Breathing heavily, she brought her throbbing palm to her side, glaring vehemently at Rosier as he brought his fingertips to his crimson cheekbone, eyes wide with shock. Then, the shock disappeared and was replaced with a cold, callous stare.

"Rosier?" came a voice. Marlene whipped her head around to see Travers striding down the empty stone corridor. His eyes were searching the scene, his brow furrowed. He eyed Marlene with suspicion and a glint of anticipation. That look made her uneasy. With sweating palms, Marlene looked wildly up and down the corridor, suddenly panicked by the situation she had found herself in. She backed away slightly, blindly searching for the wall with one hand, whilst the other conspicuously wrapped itself around her wand.

"Let's go, Travers," Rosier said. He started towards him, purpose in his step.

Travers didn't take his eyes off Marlene, though. He swept them over her ominously, hungrily. His wand was in his hand. When Rosier reached him, he put one hand on Travers's shoulder and tried in vain to steer him away. "Leave it."

Travers shot Rosier an incredulous glance. "Piss on that. She's too full of herself, that one. Could do with being brought down a peg or two."

" _Leave it,_ " Rosier repeated sharply. "We've got more important things to do."

Travers titled his head and eyed Marlene one last time. "Maybe next time," he breathed, before Rosier managed to pull him away. Trembling viciously, Marlene watched as they walked down the long corridor. Her lungs were tight, her heart hammering against her chest. Rosier didn't look back. They just climbed the steps and disappeared.

All Marlene could do was slide down against the wall and try not to throw up.


	5. To The Happy Couple

**April 1979**

"I didn't think this day would come," Sirius said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. His fingers were woven around the stem of a champagne flute, which he was holding aloft as he spoke to the small crowd. He looked extraordinarily handsome in a dark grey tuxedo, with his luxurious dark hair swept back and his grey eyes full of laughter. "Anyone who knew James thought his quest was futile. But, damn, was the boy determined." A small chuckle rippled beneath the vast white marquee.

Marlene watched as Lily dipped her head, crimson leaking into her cheeks. Beside her, James grinned widely, not once taking his eyes off his bride. Marlene had never seen a more beautiful couple. Lily's auburn hair was pinned elegantly against her head, allowing only for a few escaped curls to frame her joy-filled face. Her dress was simple and traditional, with a sweetheart neckline and long, lacy sleeves that fell elegantly to her wrists. The skirt, obscured by the table she was seated at, was soft and flowing, with intricate laced patterns adorning the trim. Despite its perpetual scruffiness, James had managed to make to make his hair look a little less chaotic, and was clad in a smart black tuxedo which contrasted against the small white lily that decorated his dress pocket. His hands held on to his wife's as though he never wanted to let go.

"I have known James Potter since he was eleven years old," Sirius continued, a bit more solemnly. "And he has become my family. He _is_ my family. And I would do anything for him." Marlene watched with a smile on her face, as warmth spread in her chest. Never had she heard Sirius speak with such honesty and raw feeling.

"And, Lily," he said. "I couldn't have hoped for a better sister-in-law. Without you, James wouldn't be the man he is today." Lily's eyes had begun to glisten. "You two… you are the epitome of love. If you can keep that up in the midst of all of this shit, I sincerely believe we can do anything." Sirius looked at the faces of his closest friends, and he smiled a truly hopeful smile. "Or," he said, that mischievous grin resurfacing suddenly. "The next time a girl shoots me down, I'll take a leaf out of Prongs's book and ask her another sixty-four times, and maybe I'll wear her down enough to marry her." A chorus of laughs echoed throughout the crowd.

"To the happy couple!" Sirius shouted, raising his glass in salute. The crowd jumped to their feet and echoed the sentiment with booming merriment. James turned to his best friend and gave him the greatest bear hug Marlene had ever seen. Lily thanked him tearfully and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"That was beautiful," Dorcas sighed weepily amidst the applause, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. Like Dorcas, Mary and Alice Longbottom, Marlene wore a gown of soft coral pink that swished gracefully around her legs. They were seated at a table beside Lily's under a sweeping marquee that was embellished with chains of threaded flowers and candles that floated ten feet above the ground. No more than ten round tables were scattered beneath the sky of candlelight, and each was dotted with Lily and James's closest friends and family. The ceremony had taken place just outside of the marquee they were sitting in, within the sweeping grounds of the Potter Manor, and they had been ushered beneath the tent for the party. It was so beautifully decorated that it almost felt as though they were seated in a grand hall rather than a garden, with its sweeping pearly white drapes and its magically created hardwood floor.

"Are you _crying_?" Mary asked incredulously.

"Just because you don't have an emotional bone in your body," Dorcas retorted indignantly.

Before Mary could reply, Sirius' voice boomed through the tent. "If everyone could stay standing and move into the middle, so that I can – "

"I think I'll do that, Sirius," Lily interrupted mischievously, as James handed over her wand. "Lest you decapitate one of my guests."

With a swish of her wand, the tables and chairs took to the air, hovered for a few moments, and then manoeuvred their way to the edges of the marquee, leaving a dance-floor sized space in the middle. From an undetectable source, a beautiful melody began to play. James took Lily's hand and led her into the middle of the tent, and, slowly, they began to dance. They swayed slowly to the music, never taking their eyes off one another. Normally, Lily would have hated being the centre of attention in this way. But Marlene could tell from the look on her face that nothing else mattered in that moment. Only James. And for reasons unbeknownst to her, Marlene's heart caught in her throat and tears spiked at her eyes.

"Not you, too," Mary hissed from beside her. Marlene nudged her friend reproachfully, trying not to allow the tears to escape. What was wrong with her, lately? She never cried at soppy things. She _hated_ soppy things.

As the song slowed to a finish, James kissed Lily tenderly, once on the lips and once on the forehead. The crowd exploded in applause; some were dabbing furiously at the eyes, and others – meaning Sirius, Remus and Peter – were whooping with approval. The music swelled and the beat grew faster; wedding guests flooded onto the dance floor in pairs and in groups.

As the groom was seized by his group of school friends, Lily broke away from the dance-floor and headed towards her bridesmaids, pulling an elderly couple in tow.

"Mum, dad," Lily said as she reached them. The beam on the couple's faces diminished their greying hair. "I want you to meet my friends. Marlene, Dorcas and Mary are in their final year at Hogwarts. Alice is an Auror."

"An Auror, you say?" Mr. Evans said interestedly, surveying Alice enthusiastically over a pair of spectacles.

"Is that a magical job?" Mrs. Evans piped in breathlessly. "Are you all magic?"

"Yes, mother," Lily said impatiently, as Dorcas hid a peal of giggles behind her hand. "They're witches. Like me."

"Well, it's an absolute honour to meet all of you," Mr. Evans said happily, taking each of the bridesmaids's hands and shaking them vigorously.

"And you, Mr. and Mrs. Evans," Marlene said pleasantly. Lily's parents gave the group huge smiles before returning to a nearby table for a sit-down.

"They're adorable," Alice said with a tinkling laugh.

"You should have seen them when they saw the candles. Mum nearly fainted."

"Right. I don't know about you lot, but I'm going to dance. What do you say, girls?" Mary said, gesturing towards the dance floor.

"It's about time!" Alice said, as she ushered the bride and the remaining bridesmaids towards the throng of people dancing horrifically to some disco number. Laughing, Marlene threw her hands above her head and shimmied in time to the music. Suddenly, someone grabbed her wrist and threw her into a spin. Sirius caught her on the other side, grinning impishly, as their group was infiltrated. Frank Longbottom slipped his arms around his laughing wife. James was throwing his limbs around in an awful interpretation of a disco move, and Lily was shaking her head and smiling at the man she would grow old with.

"You make an excellent bridesmaid," Sirius said in her ear, loudly over the music.

"You scrub up pretty nicely yourself, Black," Marlene said with a grin, as Sirius twirled her once more. As they were dancing, Sirius's attention was caught by something beyond the dance-floor. Marlene looked over her shoulder and noticed a small group of young adults, who were seated at a table by the entrance of the marquee.

"Oh," Sirius said, suddenly stopping. "There are people that I want you to meet." He took her hand and led her away from the dance floor and their friends. Together, they approached the table.

"Everyone, this is Marlene. Marlene, these are a few Order members that you're yet to meet."

A group of faces surveyed her. She recognised a few from school days past, despite the majority having a few years on her. A set of twins with tousled, ginger hair gave her a friendly wave – Fabian and Gideon Prewett, she thought. Beside them, a bored looking woman with jet-black hair gave her a perfunctory nod. That was Emmeline Vance. She had been a Ravenclaw prefect a few years ago. And, sitting beside Emmeline, was a man who was looking intently at her. He had light brown hair, with a few escaped curls that fell into his astonishingly blue eyes. When he got to his feet, he towered over Marlene by at least half a foot. And, when he smiled, he did so lopsidedly, as if he had a secret.

The man extended his hand to Marlene. "Caradoc Dearborn," he greeted charmingly. She took it with a smile. His hand was warm, and he held hers for a moment longer than was necessary.

"It's nice to meet you all," she said with more confidence than she felt, allowing her hand to fall back to her side. There was something behind Caradoc's smile that made Marlene's stomach flutter. As he opened his mouth to speak, a deafening _bang_ froze them all in place. Suddenly, the marquee was blasted away; trails of burning fabric lit the suddenly exposed night sky, billowing in every direction. The candles sputtered out and fell from the air, raining down on the unsuspecting guests who threw their hands over their heads in a vain attempt to protect themselves. The music was drowned out by the shrieks of wedding attendees, who fell into chaos. From beyond the confines of what was once the wedding marquee, in the direction of the Manor that was bright against the twilight, a swarm of dark-cloaked figures advanced.

Before she could even gather her thoughts, Marlene's wand was in her hand. Sirius was grabbing at her wrist, pulling her towards the main crowd of guests. The group she had just left were shouting frantically at one another as they fell into some kind of formation, their wands brandished. Guests began disappearing into the air with a small _pop_ that was barely audible over the panicked shouting. One such guest was Peter Pettigrew, Marlene noted with silent anger. He glanced all around before apparating away. If Sirius noticed, he didn't seem to care; or maybe he was just occupied by more important things.

Lily had gathered the skirt of her dress into her hand and was screaming for her parents. They were rushed over, aided by Remus; Mrs. Evans's jaw was slack with fear and Mr. Evans was shouting for his daughter. The air began to explode with colour; jets of red and green warred against one another. The formation created by the Order had, for the most part, created a shield between the handful of remaining guests and the looming threat. Sirius, Alice and Frank had joined the defence party, alongside a number of others.

"Remus," Lily screamed, grabbing hold of his forearm desperately. "Take my parents to the safe house. Get them out of here. _Please._ " Remus nodded and glanced quickly at James for his approval.

James shook his head and turned to his wife frantically. "Lily, you have to go with them," he said urgently, his eyes lit with fear.

Lily pointedly ignored her husband. She grabbed a hold of each of her parents' hands and fastened them to Remus's forearms. "Don't let go," Lily said urgently. "Hold as tight as you can. Do not let go."

"Lily, wait!" her mother cried, but it was too late. Remus disappeared into the air, taking the Evans' with him.

Determination swept through Marlene as she watched her best friend prepare for battle on the day of her wedding. Lily glanced at her and gave her a determined nod. Together, with Dorcas and Mary, they turned and faced what was coming. The horde of cloaked figures vastly outnumbered those who remained, and they fought with unwavering ferocity. The sun had set and the world was bathed in darkness, save for the explosions of light being fired from their wands. Marlene shot stunning spells and disarming spells in the direction of the dark wizards, feeling a surge of adrenaline race through her when a spell met its mark.

"Prongs!" Sirius roared, narrowly voiding a dagger of red light. "Tell Dumbledore! I'll cover you!"

James broke away from the crowd, and Sirius jumped into his place, quickly deflecting a curse that almost broke through their defence line. James waved his wand frantically and produced a startling bright patronus; it snorted and shook its great body. A spatter of gold leaked from James's wand and encircled the patronus, weaving through the stag's antlers and finally disappearing into its mouth. The stag turned and galloped into the fray, startling some Death Eaters and causing them to tumble to the ground, before disappearing into the horizon.

The world was awash with turmoil and the crush of bodies and Marlene had to duck behind an upturned table to catch her breath. As she staggered once more to her feet, a figure emerged from behind a chunk of the obliterated marquee. He was dressed in a dark hood and a silver mask with snake-like eye slits obscuring his identity. Before Marlene was able to raise her wand, it went hurtling from her grasp by a well-aimed disarming charm. Her opponent cocked his head. Fear blossomed in the pit of Marlene's stomach as the cloaked figure advanced. He clearly wanted to play with his food before he ate it. With her heart thudding in her chest and her palms sweaty with terror, Marlene looked helplessly for a way out of the situation. As the figure raised its wand, a blade of bright red light sent him hurtling to the ground. Marlene looked for her protector to find Caradoc Dearborn, his wand brandished and a look of steely determination on his face. Marlene bowed her head gratefully before diving for her wand and racing once more into the midst of the fight.

Bodies littered the once lush grass and Marlene prayed with all her might that they were merely unconscious. With a wave of relief, she located all of her friends – they were fighting resolutely, albeit wearily, in the face of a foe that outnumbered them. As she raised her wand to save James from a Death Eater pursuing him from behind, a sharp pain in her side caused her to cry out in pain. She fell to her knees and was suddenly apprehended by a cloaked figure who weaved his arm around her neck and stabbed a wand to the underside of her chin. Marlene could hear the breath whistling through her assailant's mask. "Drop it," he hissed. Marlene complied and let her wand fall to the ground. Her fingertips found the stabbing pain in her side, and, when she drew them away, they were with sticky blood.

Around her, Order Members were being forced to their knees by a sudden onslaught of Death Eaters. Mary was knocked unconscious by a well-aimed stunning spell, and Dorcas was disarmed and detained like Marlene. The same thing happened until James, Sirius and Caradoc were the only ones left conscious and armed, albeit trapped by a ring of Death Eaters.

"Put your wands down," rasped a voice. The owner was holding Lily around the neck. The bride's face betrayed no fear. The boys slowly lowered their wands to the ground and held their hands up in submission.

"Let her go," James said dangerously quietly.

"You should have joined us when you had the chance," Lily's assailant sneered, tracing Lily's cheek with the tip of his wand. "Then your wife might have lived past her wedding day."

" _No_!"

The air exploded with the sudden appearance of bodies. Sirius, James and Caradoc leapt for their wands, taking advantage of the momentarily stunned Death Eaters. The cavalry had arrived. Exploiting the commotion, Marlene twisted in her assailant's grasp, grabbed him by both shoulders and kneed him violently in the groin. The figure doubled over, gasping. Marlene kicked his wand from his fingertips and lunged for her own, ignoring the pain shooting through her side from the exertion. The Death Eater wasn't giving up easily, though, and dove after her, trying to pin her wrists to the grass. Marlene was quicker than he was. She rolled beneath him and slashed at him with her wand, causing him to roar in pain at the burn she left on his wrist.

Marlene staggered to her feet and was confronted by a man with dark grey hair and a heavily scarred face. "Dearborn!" the man growled over his shoulder. "Take her and go. _Now_."

Caradoc looked wildly between Marlene and the newcomer. "But, what about – "

"Go _now_!" the stranger roared, as he fired a spell over Marlene's shoulder. The hex hit Marlene's assailant square in the chest, and he slumped to the ground, incapacitated. Caradoc grabbed Marlene by the forearm and gripped tightly.

"Wait!" she screamed. "What about Lily?! And Mary, and Dor – "

"There's no time!" Caradoc shouted. Marlene felt Caradoc's grip on her arm twist. And, suddenly, she was being pulled through a tube; her lungs were crushed and she struggled to breath. Her feet slammed against solid ground, and, almost instantly, Marlene fell to her knees. Her vision began to swim as she struggled to identify her new surroundings.

The last thing she remembered was the feel of hot blood on her hip and a concerned voice: "Marlene, are you okay?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Hi guys! I just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. It really means a lot, and definitely gives me the inspiration and the motivation to write. So, thank you, all! Please let me know if you have any suggestions or recommendations. Have a nice day!


	6. Rendezvous and Trysts

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long to get out, guys. I had exams and they took over my life. Anyway, enjoy! Oh, also: strong language from here on out.

* * *

 **April and May 1979**

A bright light probed at her eyelids, destroying the painless and peaceful darkness. Marlene squeezed them tighter, but to no avail. With a groan, she opened one eye first, and then the other, allowing time for her sight to adjust. She was lying in a bed, propped up against a wall of pillows. And she was in the Hospital Wing. It was empty for the most part, save a solitary figure who snored softly in the farthest bed. And, of course, for the two girls that lounged at the foot of her own.

"Oh, she's waking up," Dorcas said eagerly, sitting forward on the edge of her chair. A bandage adorned her left cheek.

"What happened?" Marlene croaked.

"You got hit by some nasty curse," Mary said matter-of-factly. "You lost a load of blood. And got a bit of a head injury, too."

"Oh."

Mary laughed. "You should have seen yourself, though," she said. "You looked very badass, all pale and unconscious."

"Mary!" Dorcas gasped, horrified.

"Oh, chill out," Mary said with a grin, waving her hand dismissively. "It was easily fixed." Her unperturbed demeanour made Marlene chuckle. She shifted on the bed, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

"What happened with the Order? Was anyone hurt?"

"Sirius is a bit beat up, but there's no lasting damage. When Moody and the others arrived, the Death Eaters didn't stand a chance. Most of them fled. The others were left unconscious. James and Lily took Mary and me to the safe house, and that's where we saw you." Marlene briefly remembered being hoisted into Caradoc's arms, her head lolling, as he took her carefully into a house and laid her on a sofa.

"When Dumbledore arrived – "

"Dumbledore was there?!"

"Of course," Dorcas said. "He thought it best to bring you here. Today is the last day of the Easter Holidays, and he thought it would raise less questions if it looked like you had had an accident at school, or something."

"So, people don't know what happened?"

"Oh, Merlin, no," Mary said quickly. With a grin, she added: "But the rumour is that some over-exerted fifth year was practicing a spell and it backfired and hit you."

"That's embarrassing," Marlene groaned.

"It's better than a near-death experience with a bunch of psychopathic lunatics," Dorcas said solemnly. Mary nodded in agreement with a chuckle.

Marlene smiled weakly. "And you two? Are you okay?"

Dorcas shrugged and indicated her cheek. "I didn't even feel it happen. Madam Pomfrey was just being cautious."

Mary lifted her sleeve to show a nasty purple bruise. "A war wound," she said with a grin.

"I never thought I would be able to do that, you know," Dorcas said thoughtfully. "Duel. In real life."

Neither had Marlene. Trying to piece together the events of the day before proved futile; it had all happened so quickly that any memories were a blur of confusion. All she remembered was the adrenaline. And it had felt good. Marlene had felt strong. She felt like she was fighting for a purpose. Of course, the pride of surviving her first battle was marred only by the intense fear that had accompanied it. Marlene wasn't sure if she could cope losing anyone else.

* * *

" _Locomotor mortis_!"

Marlene's legs snapped together, immobile. She held her hands up to steady herself, but the bind had eradicated her balance. With almost painful gradualness, the soft grass came up to meet Marlene. She braced her palms in front to soften her fall as she toppled to the ground.

"Oh, crap, Marls!" Leonard said as he rushed to his motionless sister. It was extremely difficult to climb to one's feet when one's knees would not bend, Marlene discovered. Leonard removed the spell and hoisted her to her feet.

"That was pretty good," Marlene said with a grin as she brushed the dirt from her robes. "You're getting better."

Marlene had been out of the Hospital Wing for three weeks, now. It was nearing the end of May and final exams were drawing ever closer. Marlene had always been a relatively studious girl; she had worked hard at her OWLs and managed to obtain the grades she needed to pursue her chosen NEWT subjects. Now, however, she couldn't concentrate on her schoolwork. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on Charms and Transfiguration, all she could think about was how turning vinegar into wine wasn't going to help save the world.

Her siblings had visited her in the Hospital Wing, both aware of the truth of the incident at the Potter wedding. Luella, in particular, was frightened for Marlene's safety and begged her not to get involved anymore. She had done her best to assuage her little sister's fears. Leonard, she had noticed, seemed particularly fidgety, avoiding her eye and shifting from foot to foot. It wasn't until Luella disappeared to the library that Marlene was able to find out why.

"I want in," Leonard had said bluntly.

"Are you kidding me?" Marlene had hissed. "You're still a kid, Leo. I'm supposed to be looking after you, and you want me to let you run off and join an _army_?"

"You're such a hypocrite!" Leonard said exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air. "You're not that much older than me, and you're allowed to do it!"

"I don't care, Leo. This isn't a democracy."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"I think you'll find that I can, actually."

"Look, Marlene, I'm not asking for your permission," he retorted angrily. "I've already contacted Sirius, and he said that – "

" _What_?!" Marlene shrieked. Heads snapped to look at her. Her knuckles were white; arms braced against the sides of her hospital bed.

"Marlene, keep your voice down. Sirius said – "

"I don't care what Sirius sodding Black said. You're not joining the Order. You can wait until you're of age, and then maybe I'll consider it."

Leonard had turned a violent shade of red, and he unleashed his anger in a torrent of shouted objections until Madam Pomfrey ushered him out. Over the next few days, once released from the Wing, Marlene had considered what her brother had asked. If she was honest with herself, it _was_ extremely hypocritical to prevent him from joining. But, then again, he was still just a kid.

Marlene had penned an angry letter to Sirius, chastising him for putting such ideas in Leonard's head. She had received a swift reply, containing phrases like "put his anger to good use" and "the more the merrier". Marlene had thrown the parchment in the fire and watched it curl into ashes, inwardly cursing Sirius under her breath.

And then, she began to reconsider. Marlene tracked Leo down at dinner one day and slid into the bench beside him. He was still angry with her, and didn't hesitate to prove it by moodily stabbing his Yorkshire pudding whilst she spoke in low tones.

"Look, Leo. I'm sorry I was harsh with you earlier. I just couldn't bear it if something happened to you, knowing that I had given you permission to do it." As Leonard opened his mouth to argue, Marlene had silenced him with a quick shake of her head. " _But_ ," she continued. "I am willing to consider it. I've spoken to Lily, and worked it out. She joined the Order when she was underage, but she did it…" Marlene paused, wondering how best to phrase it. "… off the record."

Leonard looked confused. "You mean – "

"I mean, you can't go shouting your mouth off to your friends," Marlene said below her breath. "And you won't be doing anything dangerous. Not until we can get you some training. Sirius said he'd help you with duelling. In the meantime, I thought we might be able to practice with each other. Merlin knows I need the help as well." Leonard tried his hardest to keep his face neutral, but Marlene could see that, beneath the surface, it had lit up like child's on Christmas. She sighed inwardly, wondering what she was letting her little brother get involved in.

And that was how they ended up on the outskirts of the castle, still within the boundary wall, but far enough away that you wouldn't be able to spot them if you peered out of the window. The greenhouses shrouded them from view, but they had to be careful not to shatter glass with a misaimed spell. The sun was beginning to set, casting streaks of fiery orange across the lawn and the stone walls.

"I'll be a bit more careful with the leg binds," Leo said with a grin.

"You're a menace with those," Marlene muttered, stretching her legs to regain feeling into her feet. "It's good, though. You've come a long way. But, I think I need to call off the duelling practices for a while. Just until exams are over."

Leo nodded understandingly. "I think that might be a good idea. Otherwise I'm never going to get any OWLs."

"Don't joke about that," Marlene said, horrified.

"Chill out, sis," he said with a lazy grin. Together, they began walking towards the castle. As they approached the vegetable gardens, Leonard stopped and turned to his sister. "Thank you, Marlene," he said soberly. "Thank you for trusting me. With this. Doing this."

Marlene smiled weakly. "I want you to be safe."

"I know. I will be."

Marlene gave her brother a hug, smiling inwardly as he had to stoop down to her height. "Love you, Leo," she said softly.

Leonard pulled a face as he released Marlene, until he buckled under the force of her fiery glare. "Love you too, Marls."

She grinned, waving as he veered off towards the west side of the castle. She wandered across the grass, sticking to the shadows in case someone was to spot her outside after sunset. She had jurisdiction to do as much, given her Headship. But it was just easier to avoid the questions.

The sun had fully set by the time she reached the greenhouses. As she headed towards the opening to the castle, the wooden door burst open, spilling orange torchlight onto the shadowy grass. Two figures strode out, bringing with them their heated, yet hushed, voices. To avoid detection, Marlene slipped between the greenhouses, so that she could see the figures silhouetted in the moonlight, only a few metres away, but she remained concealed by darkness. And she was glad that she hid. There was no mistaking the tall form of Rosier and the shorter yet burly build of Travers. Marlene strained to hear their discussion, which had increased significantly in volume since they left the interior of the castle.

"He's not going to wait forever," Travers hissed. "This isn't a game, Evan. You need to figure out where your loyalties lie."

"And I need you to get out of my face," Rosier retorted angrily. "Stop being melodramatic. No one is questioning my loyalties."

"Your father – "

"And don't talk to me about my father." Rosier's voice was so quiet and so dangerous that the unspoken threat made even Marlene shiver. Rosier sighed loudly. "I know what is required of me. At no point did I say I wasn't willing."

"That's not what Walden said."

"I don't give a rat's ass what Walden says!" Rosier fired back indignantly. "I've said I'll do it, alright?"

"Well, you better get to it, Rosier. There are consequences if we don't. And I'm not going to let you sit around whilst that bitch can get away with shit like this." Marlene watched as Travers snatched up the sleeve of his robe, illuminated by the shaft of moonlight. Marlene squinted, her eyes doing their best to fight the darkness. Adorning his wrist was a faded, albeit angry, welt on his skin. Marlene's gasp was so audible that she had to clamp her fist to her mouth. She shrunk further into the gap between the greenhouses, leaning heavily against the glass, not daring to check whether she had been discovered. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her breath was ragged. Marlene could almost feel the hot breath slipping through a silver mask, caressing her cheek. She could almost feel the wand against her neck and the sensation of a knife in her abdomen. The thought made her feel sick to her stomach.

An inaudible retort from Rosier brought Marlene crashing back to the present. She tiptoed closer to the pair of Slytherins, peering around the glass just in time to see Travers striding back into the castle. She watched as Rosier whirled around in fury and drove his fist into the wall of the castle, a growl of frustration erupting from his throat as he was seemingly left alone. He stood with his back against the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavily, illuminated by a strip of moonlight falling across his face.

Marlene was momentarily frozen by a strange grip of fear. Despite it being a relatively warm evening, she shivered. Before she could second-guess her actions, she stepped from the shadowy confines of the greenhouse. "What is it that you have to do?"

Rosier's eyes snapped open, startled. His face, momentarily exhibiting shock, grew dark as his eyes found Marlene's. "Have you been watching me?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I was here already. You should probably check the area before you have top secret conversations." Rosier's fists were clenched by his side. Marlene could tell he was biting back a retort, causing a muscle in his jaw to pulse with the effort.

"So, what's the big mission?" She was goading him. She wanted him to snap. The fear she had felt earlier had dissipated; she wasn't afraid. Instead, she was gripped by a strange surge of adrenaline. Marlene took a step closer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rosier said between clenched teeth, his cheeks whitening.

"Yes, you do," she said simply. She took another step closer. Cautiously, he watched her approach. There was a turmoil warring beneath the surface of his composed face. Marlene knew how dangerous this was; she had no idea what this man was capable of. "What do you have to do, Rosier?" Marlene breathed. She didn't care how reckless this was. There was something inside of Marlene that was convinced she was safe. And she had no idea what that something was.

She was in front of him, now. The moonlight splashed across both their faces. Marlene stared defiantly at Rosier, daring him with her eyes. As Rosier raised his hand, she didn't even flinch. She didn't flinch because she was right – Rosier wasn't going to hurt her. He wasn't going to hurt her at all. Instead, he did something altogether unexpected.

Rosier closed the gap between them in one stride, placed a hand at the nape of her neck, and kissed her. Hard. His mouth moved on her own with a sense of urgency that Marlene had never experienced. And, before she knew what she was doing, Marlene was kissing him back. Desire awoke in the pit of her stomach, igniting a fire that spread its embers to her fingertips. Her hands were pressed against his chest, his heartbeat pounding against her fingertips. Rosier span her around and drove her back until she was pressed up against the cold castle wall, his entire body moulded to the shape of her own. His tongue traced her lips, and his hands roamed across her body.

Marlene forgot who he was. She forgot what he had done and what he was capable of. It didn't seem to matter. His tongue explored her mouth; his hands explored her body. Then, he pulled back, breathing heavily. Rosier searched Marlene with an intensity in his eyes that made her shiver. And, like a moth to a flame, Marlene pulled him closer and kissed him once more. Her hands grasped the t-shirt he wore underneath his robes, pushing at it until her fingertips found his skin. Marlene was drowning in the touch, the taste and the scent of Evan Rosier…

Until. _Evan Rosier._ Suddenly, she pulled back. Their heavy breathing was interrupted by Marlene's gasp of horror. Her fingertips unwittingly jumped to her lips as realisation of what had just happened flooded through her. "I – "

Marlene searched desperately for words, but to no avail. She tried to push past him. "Marlene, wait," Rosier said huskily. His hand encircled her wrist, pulling her back. She turned to face him, imploring him with her eyes, unable to voice what was hovering on her lips. There was something in his eyes – passion, or maybe pain. She couldn't tell. And she couldn't face hanging around to find out. Marlene tore her wrist from Rosier's grasp and rushed inside to the safe confines of the castle. Dazed, she headed for the Common Room, unable to remove her fingertips from her lips, and unable to rid her mind of the touch, the taste, and the scent of Evan Rosier.


	7. Coward

**A/N** : Hi, guys! I am extremely sorry that this chapter took so long to be published. I've been travelling and didn't have access to my laptop (horrifying, I know). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this.

WARNING: scenes of moderate violence follow. I might be increasing the rating a few chapters along.

* * *

 **June 1979**

"Marlene," came a disgruntled voice. "You can't possibly want to spend your last day of education in the _Common Room_." Mary was leaning against the wall near the portrait hole, her arms folded and her eyes narrowed. Marlene waved a hand dismissively in her direction, not looking up from the book she was holding. Mary sighed loudly and marched to the armchair, snatching the book and snapping it shut.

"Hey!" Marlene said indignantly. "You lost my page!"

"Yeah, well, I'm losing my patience," Mary retorted. She placed both hands under Marlene's forearms and heaved her to her feet. "Come to the lake. It's sunny outside and we have a very limited period of _zero responsibilities_ and I simply cannot allow you to waste it by reading."

Marlene scowled and crossed her arms obstinately across her chest. "I was enjoying myself."

"Blah, blah. Cry me a river. Come on, let's go."

Marlene reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged across the Common Room, her heart sinking. She had largely avoided wide-open spaces for fear that she would cross paths with Rosier. So far, she hadn't had to face him. The thought of seeing him made her stomach churn, and not in the way she was used to. And that terrified her. So much so that she hadn't even told her best friends.

Before they could open the portrait hole, it flung open and Dorcas climbed through. "Oh, hey!" she said. "I was just looking for you, Marlene. McGonagall asked me to give you this." It was a tightly rolled slip of parchment; when Marlene unfurled it, the handwriting was strangely unfamiliar.

"It's from Dumbledore," Marlene said confusedly, as her eyes scanned the words. Her stomach sank. "He wants me to go to his office. It's about the graduation ceremony."

"That's very official," Dorcas said. "I don't think I've ever been to his office."

"I've never even had a conversation with the man," Mary said.

Marlene smiled weakly, barely hearing the words that were being exchanged. Her mind was focused on the terrifying thought of being in an enclosed space with Rosier. "I better go," Marlene said grudgingly. "Shall I meet you both by the lake?" They nodded.

Marlene navigated the empty corridors, squinting down at the parchment as she went so that she could decipher the directions in Dumbledore's note. Her face twisted in confusion at his sign off: _I like jelly slugs_. She shrugged it off as typical Dumbledore eccentricity. Marlene almost walked past the entrance to his office on the third floor, casting the giant gargoyle off as mere decoration. Perplexedly, she surveyed the statue with slight confusion, running her hands across the wings in a vain attempt to discover some secret handle.

"I think you need a password," came a voice. Marlene hands dropped suddenly to her sides, her face flushing and her stomach turning in somersaults. She could feel him hovering at her shoulder, but couldn't muster the courage to turn and face him.

"I don't know the password," Marlene said softly, not taking her eyes off the ugly gargoyle.

" _Jelly slugs_."

Inwardly cursing her ineptitude, Marlene watched as the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing a moving spiral staircase. Hurriedly, she leapt onto the first step and allowed the staircase to ascend.

The door at the top of the staircase was ajar. Marlene hovered awkwardly on the threshold, unsure whether to enter. She rapped her knuckles across the oak. Before Rosier could join her in the confined landing area, Marlene pushed open the door and peered in. "Hello?" she called. With no answer, she stepped inside. Dumbledore's office was a large, circular room, playing host to a number of whirring instruments and a huge collection of dusty books. Portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses snoozed in their frames; Marlene inwardly pleaded with one to wake up so that it wouldn't just be the two of them.

"I guess we wait," she said.

"Are you not going to talk to me?" Rosier asked simply. Marlene turned to look at him then, flinching slightly at how close he seemed to be to her. If she reached out her hand, she would touch his lips. Blinking feverishly, Marlene dragged her eyes from Evan Rosier's lips and looked him steadily in the eye.

"There's not much to talk about." She took a few steps towards Dumbledore's desk, feigning interest in the ancient scrolls that were strewn haphazardly across it.

Rosier cocked his head and watched her. "I'm not going to apologise about what happened."

Marlene surprised herself with what shot out of her mouth. "I don't want you to."

A smile tugged at his lips. "So, why are you avoiding me?"

"Because," Marlene snapped, whirling on him. "I don't know what to think anymore. You – you _hurt_ people. You have evil friends. And you – you – you _put my best friend in hospital_. And every time I look at her, I think of how – of how…" she stopped suddenly, turning her face so that Rosier wouldn't see the blush rise into her cheeks.

Rosier groaned and pressed a palm to his face. "Look, what happened that night was awful. But it's – it's not what you think. You don't know everything that happened – "

"What?" Marlene interrupted, her eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"

"That I didn't hurt Mary."

The silence was fractured by Marlene's pounding heartbeat. "And why should I believe you?"

"Because you have no reason not to." His voice almost pleaded with her, and Marlene felt an appalling urge to embrace him. She shook her head, more to herself than to him.

"Fine," he said quietly. Rosier turned on heel and crossed the room, coming to rest at a glass cabinet that lay slightly ajar. He opened the door and extracted a metal basin that glimmered with gems embedded into its walls. Rosier placed it carefully on the nearest surface.

"What are you doing?!" Marlene hissed, glancing over her shoulder to see if the portraits had stirred, or – Merlin forbid – that Dumbledore was walking through the door.

"If you won't believe me, I'll show you."

"I don't understand," Marlene said numbly.

"Come here." Based on recent histories, Marlene was extremely reluctant to obey such a request. Her own body had been in the business of betraying her common sense. Curiosity eventually bested her, though, and Marlene crossed the room. She looked into the basin to see a silvery substance, something in between a liquid and a gas. The urge to prod it was overwhelming.

"What is it?"

"A pensieve. My father has one. For unwanted memories." Rosier smiled humourlessly before raising the tip of his wand to his forehead. When he withdrew it, a strand of silver, like a thick cobweb, clung to the wood. Marlene watched with rapt fascination as Rosier deposited the strand into the basin. He looked at her, opening his mouth to say something, before closing it.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Marlene said worriedly, glancing over her shoulder. "Dumbledore could – " Rosier interrupted her by taking her hand. Marlene's mouth snapped shut. As she felt his skin against hers, all she could think about was how it had felt pressed against her neck, her face, her lower back… And then she was falling. Rosier had submerged their entwined hands in the basin and she had been jolted from the earth, tumbling into a hazy darkness. When her feet found solid ground, she had been transported from Dumbledore's office. Now, she was standing in the dungeons. Beside her stood Rosier, staring stonily ahead. Marlene followed his gaze and, with a jolt, realised they were watching another Rosier. His hair was different: shorter, scruffier; and he wasn't as tall.

"What?" Marlene breathed. "What is going on?"

The first Rosier pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at his doppelganger, who was heading deeper into the dungeons. Marlene followed him, the curiosity blooming in her chest like an insatiable thirst.

"Hey, Rosier!" a voice called. From the far end of the corridor, a figure emerged. He was tall and skinny, with a grin plastered across his face that left Marlene with a feeling of unease in her chest. "I wouldn't go that way, if I were you."

"I'm looking for Mulciber," Rosier replied.

"He's a bit busy." The slimy grim grew wider. "He's with some mudblood."

Marlene's heartbeat spiked. She rocked on the balls of her feet, wanting to sprint around that corner and see Mary, but also very, very afraid to do so. Instead, she glanced at the doppelganger's face. It had that stony impassiveness that Marlene was altogether too familiar with. The stranger crossed the corridor, his smirk unfaltering, and thumped Rosier on the arm as he passed. "Catch you later, mate."

Rosier said nothing. He remained still for a moment until the stranger disappeared through a door. And then he ran. His sudden movement startled Marlene and she had to race to keep up with him. Rosier flung himself around the corner and stopped suddenly in his tracks, his breathing ragged and his eyes wide. Mulciber was standing in front of a stone alcove, his wand unsheathed and his eyes full of cruel laughter. Opposite him, Mary's fists were balled and she was hammering on thin air. Her eyes were bright and full of tears and her lips were moving soundlessly. Her wand was on the floor a mere metre from her shoes.

"I'm sorry," Mulciber said loudly, cupping his ear and feigning concern. "What was that? I can't quite hear you." Mary spread her palms in the air and they paled, as if pressing against glass. There was a sharp intake of breath and Marlene was surprised to realise that it hadn't come from her own lips. Beside her, Rosier's doppelganger had slowly removed his wand. A conflict waged in his mind. Marlene glanced back to watch the real Rosier, whose eyes were trained unwaveringly on the ground. His hand was trembling.

"He's going to kill her," Marlene whispered, watching as Mary fought for oxygen. "She can't breathe." A haunting blue tinge was leaking into Mary's cheeks, as if it was replacing the life inside of her. In defeat, she pressed her forehead against the invisible barrier, silent sobs racking her body. Mulciber laughed: a cruel, throaty sound.

"Mulciber!" The younger Rosier strode forward and Mulciber's head whipped around to identify the intruder in his fun.

"Ah, Rosier. Fancy getting a head start on your initiation?" Mulciber said with a grin. With a small flick of his wand, the invisible barrier disappeared and Mary tumbled out of the alcove, her knees crashing against the stone floor. She gulped at the air, replenishing her starved lungs. Mulciber grabbed her by the front of her robes and hauled her to her feet before she could scrabble for her wand. "Now," Mulciber breathed, leering. "What do you say when you see a pureblood?" Mary, still struggling for breath, said nothing. Mulciber gave her a vicious shake. In reply, Mary spat in his eye. With a roar of rage, Mulciber threw her backwards and raised his wand high.

"Mulciber!" Rosier shouted, charging forwards. But it was too late. With a blinding flash of red, Mary crumpled to the ground, blood leaking from a wound on her neck.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Rosier hissed, restraining Mulciber from behind.

"Get off me," Mulciber spat, twisting free from Rosier's grasp.

"You've killed her," Rosier gasped, falling to his knees. He pressed his fingers against her neck.

"What do you care?" Mulciber sneered. Rosier jumped to his feet and whirled on Mulciber.

"You _idiot_ ," Rosier shouted. "What use are you going to be to anyone if you're in prison? You've attacked a girl under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for Merlin's sake."

A flash of fear crossed Mulciber's face. "She's not dead," he said quickly. "There's a counter-curse."

"Well, you better hurry up and use it before she does die."

Almost begrudgingly, Mulciber squatted down and waved his wand across Mary's head. As if in reverse, the blood was absorbed through Mary's wound.

"We need to get out of here," Rosier said dully. Mulciber nodded his agreement, stuffing his wand into his robes and grinning as if he were on an adventure. They headed towards where Marlene was standing, invisible. Mulciber strode through the door, but a sound like a strangled gasp made the younger Rosier stop in his tracks.

And as if from some strange dream, Marlene was suddenly looking at herself. Pale face, trembling hands, parted lips. "Mary?" she was whispering. Marlene watched herself sprint down the corridor and fall to her knees at her best friend's crumpled body. "Mary!" the doppelganger shrieked, snatching her cold hand. The second Marlene jumped to her feet and whipped her head back and forth, her eyes wildly and hungrily searching the corridor. The doppelganger's eyes met her own, and Marlene felt the memory of that anger and that fear as if it had happened yesterday. " _Rosie_ r!" the younger Marlene screamed. Rosier turned slowly, his wand still unsheathed, his eyes glinting. And then he smiled. A sick, twisted smirk that Marlene hadn't been able to forget. He turned on his heel and strode away.

Marlene didn't need to stay with Mary: she had done that once. Instead, she followed the younger Rosier. She followed him through the door; she followed him as he raced up a set of stone steps; she followed him as he slipped inside a broom cupboard. And Marlene watched as Rosier put his head in his hands and sobbed.

Suddenly, the world burst in a cloud of hazy smoke. Rosier's face twisted into nothingness, his features evaporating in front of her eyes. And then she was back, feet firmly planted in Dumbledore's office. She was clutching the edge of the pensieve, her mouth hanging open and her mind racing. The real Rosier was watching her with the kind of intensity that made her shiver. Words, questions, feelings clouded her mind, but something in her couldn't connect her brain to her mouth.

"You saw me that night," Rosier said quietly. "Why didn't you tell anyone I was there?"

Marlene blinked. "Mary asked me not to. She said you didn't hurt her."

"She didn't know that. You certainly didn't think that."

Marlene shook her head guiltily. "No, I didn't." She didn't know what to think, now. Mary might have died if it hadn't been for Rosier's intervention. And so what if he did it for the wrong reasons? _Did_ he even do it for the wrong reasons? A vision of Rosier with his head in his hands swarmed her mind. "Why?" Marlene blurted out. "Why did you protect her?"

Rosier squeezed his eyes shut; a combination of frustration and pain contorted his features. "I spent my childhood powerless against my father. My mother – there was nothing I could do for her. I am tired of being powerless."

"Then why didn't you tell me sooner? Why do you _pretend_?" Marlene said, her voice brimming with emotion.

"I am who I am, Marlene. There's no changing that. Our lives are different and what is expected of us is very different."

"You have a choice, you know," she said quietly.

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "No, I don't."

Marlene opened her mouth to reply, to let the words pour out in a torrent of fury, to chastise him for not being true to himself, for not standing up for himself and for other people. For being a coward. For hurting other people to protect himself. For not telling her the truth. For letting her believe he was something evil.

A door slamming shut broke her resolve; she flinched suddenly and whipped around. Dumbledore was standing by the entrance to his office, surveying them intently over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, his silver robes flowing ethereally to the ground.

"Congratulations on decrypting my message," Dumbledore said with a mischievous glint in his eye. Marlene smiled weakly, her face growing hot, terrified that they had been discovered. Rosier shuffled in front of the pensieve to shield it from view, as Dumbledore watched them with something akin to laughter in his eyes. Sometimes, Marlene wondered if Dumbledore orchestrated moments like these.

The Headmaster swept forward, beckoning them to join him at his desk. Marlene obliged, positioning herself so that Dumbledore's back would be turned on the scene of the crime. "Tomorrow morning, you will lead your year group in the graduation ceremony. You will assemble the seventh year students in the Entrance Hall and lead them to the cave below, where the gameskeeper will be waiting with the boats." Marlene listened intermittently as Dumbledore explained their role and their duties. "Once you reach the shore on the other side, you both will officially be dissolved of your responsibilities as Head Boy and Girl. And as your status as a student of Hogwarts."

Those words sent a knife through Marlene's stomach. An unexplainable wave of fear crashed over her. She felt nostalgic and terrified, all at once. "Thank you, professor," Marlene said suddenly. "For this opportunity. For everything." He smiled kindly at her. She felt foolish for her sudden outburst, but he reached out and shook her hand. "Congratulations, Miss McKinnon." And, in that typical Dumbledore manner, Marlene was convinced that his words meant something deeper. She searched his face, but was met with only a twinkle in those striking blue eyes.

"And congratulations to you, Mr Rosier," Dumbledore said, sweeping forward so that they could shake hands. "Both of you have performed your role excellently. I thank you for your service." Rosier murmured a thanks, avoiding Dumbledore's eye. He fidgeted uncomfortably under the weight of Dumbledore's gaze.

"Well, off you pop," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Enjoy your last day." As Marlene and Rosier headed for the door, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Oh, Mr Rosier. You might want this." Dumbledore was facing the pensieve, his hands busy. When he turned to face them, the professor was holding a vial of silvery substance. Marlene's breath caught in her throat, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. With his mouth slightly agape, Rosier crossed the room and retrieved the vial, murmuring a quiet _thank you_. Marlene swore she heard a chuckle as she descended the spiral staircase.

When they reached the bottom, Rosier let out a breath as a whistle. "That man gives me the creeps," he said quietly, awkwardly ruffling his hair.

Marlene hovered awkwardly at the base of the stairs, unsure how to part ways. Unsure if she even wanted to part ways. "Thank you, Evan," she said softly. "For trusting me."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Likewise."

"Marlene?"

From the end of the corridor, a blonde bob emerged. Marlene jumped away from Rosier, squirming as if she had been caught in some illicit act. Dorcas hovered a few metres away from them both, eyeing the scene suspiciously. "Mary sent me after you," she said slowly, watching Rosier with wariness. "She said you were taking too long."

"It, uh, it took a while," Marlene replied hastily. She directed a curt nod at Rosier. "I'll see you in the morning," she said formally. There was so much more she wanted to say to him. Rosier nodded in reply, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Marlene strode towards the staircase, with Dorcas dashing after her.

"Everything okay?" Dorcas asked casually as soon as they had turned a corner.

Marlene nodded. _No!_ she wanted to scream. Nothing was okay.

* * *

The morning of their departure was, as always, a rush of half-packed trunks and half-made beds. The girls had spent their night reminiscing about the past seven years, swaddled in their duvets and rubbing sleep from their eyes until the dawn began to break. Four hours of sleep wasn't enough, but it would have to do.

The night before, Gryffindor House had endured a terrible defeat in the House Cup. Emerald banners had descended from the ceiling and the rest of the school watched as Slytherins leapt to their feet, banging their goblets on the table and whooping with triumph. After stretching the food-induced lethargy from their limbs, the seventh year students had returned to their dormitories for their final night as students of Hogwarts.

After spreading the word to various seventh years, Marlene made her way to the Entrance Hall. The atmosphere was hard to read: on the one hand, the graduates buzzed with excitement at the prospect of freedom. On the other, they stared with wistfulness at every portrait and every statue that they passed on the way down. It was, without a doubt, a bittersweet moment. A hum of chatter filled the Entrance Hall as the rest of the students made their way to the carriages. Marlene watched as people embraced one another, some tearfully, and promising summer get-togethers.

"Are you going to tell us what this big ceremony is?" Dorcas asked. Marlene wasn't listening, though. She was too busy watching as Callista Selywn threw herself at Rosier and kissed him fully on the mouth. He smiled faintly at her before taking a step backwards. A wave of queasiness swept over Marlene and she looked away, lest she vomit over her shoes. Queasiness and unmistakable vehemence. _That bitch_ , she thought.

"Marlene?" Dorcas pressed.

"Oh, sorry. And no!" Marlene said with forced chastisement. "It's a secret."

Dorcas grinned with excitement; Mary merely shook her head. "Traitor."

When it was time, Rosier caught her eye. Together, they led the crowd through the staircase that led to the cave, where Rosier and Marlene were ushered to the first boat. With her hands outstretched to keep herself balanced, Marlene stepped carefully between the seats and perched on the bench at the bow of the tiny boat. Once they were filled, the vessels began bumping across the shallow water. She grabbed the bench to steady herself, only too aware of how close her fingertips were to Rosier's. Shielding their eyes against the sudden ambush of sunlight, the boats emerged from the cave, gliding across the choppy water. As if on cue, the occupants of each boat glanced over their shoulders, watching as their castle shrunk steadily into the distance. A nostalgic smile sat upon Marlene's lips. She thought about everything that had happened to her since she had started to call this place home. She thought of her siblings, of her parents. Her friends. The Order. She thought of who she had become. She wondered whether that would change. Unwittingly, her eyes darted to Rosier, only to find him watching her.

And, as they turned to face the rest of their lives, his fingertips brushed against hers.

 **END OF PART 1**


	8. House Guests

A/N: Guess who had written this entire chapter and then lost it all to a computer malfunction? *raises hand* This gal. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

 **PART TWO – SEPTEMBER 1979**

"This is not up for discussion," growled Mad-Eye, his fist raining down upon the oak table, as final as a judge's gavel.

"We can't win with disarming spells, Alastor," Fabian Prewett argued, rubbing the weariness from his eyes. "We're not suggesting anything drastic, but if we at least considered the use of – "

"No," the Auror said brusquely. "We will not commit heinous acts. We will not stoop to their level."

"Then we will continue to lose men, Mad-Eye," Sirius said angrily. "We need to fight fire with fire."

"Wewill find another way, do you hear me?"

"There _is_ no other way."

"I agree with Alastor," Frank Longbottom put in. "It would put those of us in the Auror Office in a really difficult position if we knew that the Order had authorised the use of Unforgiveable Curses."

"Exactly," Mad-Eye said. "Nothing changes the fact that they're illegal _._ "

Sirius stared moodily into the distance. The rest of the congregation had fallen pointedly silent: the normal state of affairs when this particular topic of conversation was broached. They were sitting in Mad-Eye's dusty kitchen, the only room big enough for the entire Order to meet – and still, it was a squeeze for those present, many of whom were leaning against walls or seated on kitchen cabinets, their legs dangling inches from the ground. Marlene was hovering at the back of the room, wedged between Lily and Dorcas, who had their lips pressed together in silent contemplation.

"Well if that's settled," Mad-Eye grumbled. "Clear out of my house, you lot."

After the quiet tension had been exchanged for the hum of chatter, Marlene darted between the bodies in order to follow Sirius who had stormed from the room. She sped after him as he turned into the living room, calling out as he grabbed a pot of Floo Powder from the mantelpiece of Mad-Eye's fireplace.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently.

He grunted noncommittally, sifting the powder between his fingertips, intentionally avoiding her eye.

"I understand where you're coming from," she continued. "But they're right. It makes us no better than them."

The door opened and Remus stepped in, followed by a few other members who favoured the Floo Network as a means of travel.

"You were quiet in there, Moony," Sirius said loudly.

"Well, you know what I think," Remus said.

"Yeah. Funny, that."

"Sirius," Marlene said warningly. All eyes were trained on him, expecting yet another outburst. Lately, he had been convinced that one of their own had turned informant for the Death Eaters, and yet he could offer no proof bar the mounting bad luck the team was suffering whenever they tried to move forward with their plans. Sirius moved around the halls of Mad-Eye's house, grumbling and glaring with fiery eyes. The laughter and the jokes were gone; left was only bitterness. Marlene couldn't blame him: he had lost more than most, with his family and the constant reminder of his heritage. Last week, his own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, had murdered Aurelia Denshaw – a girl Sirius had been particularly fond of in his younger years. And, yet, each scowl and each thundering footstep tore the Order further apart. How were they supposed to work as a team if the team didn't trust one another?

Sirius blinked and lowered his gaze. "That was totally uncalled for," he murmured. He gave his head a quick shake, as if ridding his mind of a painful thought. "Sorry, Moony."

Remus shook his head dismissively. "Don't be. I understand what you're saying, Padfoot, I really do. But you know we're better than that."

Sirius looked at his friend with sadness and nodded in defeat. "Until Tuesday, then." And with a quick farewell nod, Sirius stepped into the green flames and disappeared with a _whoosh_. As Marlene passed Remus, she gave him a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder. He smiled appreciatively before following his best friend into the fire.

With a sudden mind to get blind drunk, Marlene exited the living room, scanning those left milling around in the corridor to find a pub-goer. Leaning against one wall was Caradoc Dearborn, who straightened up suddenly when he saw her. "Crazy, isn't it?" he said with forced laughter, running an uncomfortable hand through his hair. "How we turn on each other like this."

Marlene nodded solemnly. "It's sad when we start blaming one another for the losses that the other side are responsible for."

"You're right," Caradoc said, somewhat distractedly searching her face with him warm eyes. "We'll never get anywhere if we can't trust one another."

"Exactly," she said, nodding her head vigorously. He smiled.

"So, uh, I know this might be totally inappropriate," Caradoc began, tapping his wand agitatedly against the side of his leg. "But I was wondering if you wanted to go for a drink sometime."

Startled, Marlene raised her eyebrows.

"I mean, if you don't want to – " he said hurriedly.

"No!" Marlene said. "I'm sorry, it was just unexpected. I mean, yes. I'd like that."

Caradoc smiled in that charming lopsided way and stilled his hand. "Okay," he said. "How about Tuesday? After the meeting?"

She smiled, somewhat forcedly "Sounds good."

* * *

 _Crash_.

Marlene lurched into consciousness, her heart pounding frantically as hearts do when jolted from a deep sleep. The bedroom was inundated with darkness, grey clouds stealing whatever light the moon might offer. Through wide eyes, Marlene examined the room, desperately trying to find the source of the disturbance. Had she dreamed it? The thought offered some solace – lethargy returned unwittingly to her limbs and she thought about how warm it would be to just lie back down and allow the bedcovers to submerge her…

 _SMASH._

Marlene's bare feet hit the floorboards. She snatched her wand from beneath her pillow and hurried, urgently but silently, across the room. Peering into the darkened corridor offered little intelligence. Her mind lingered on casting a quick _lumos_ , but she was reluctant to alert any intruders to her whereabouts. She took a deep breath and crept into the darkness. It was probably just Sirius. This wouldn't be the first time he had turned up drunk, unable to return home because he had lost his key, only to find it buried in his pocket the next morning. Allowing the thought to calm her, Marlene tiptoed forward with less of a grip on her wand.

Just as she was about to descend the stairs, there was an ear-splitting crash followed by the unmistakable sound of splintering wood and the sudden influx of gravelly voices. "Upstairs," one hissed. "Go upstairs."

A moment of fear overwhelmed her, freezing her limbs. Her wand teetered on the tips of her fingertips, useless. Marlene took a deep breath, calming her pounding heart, and readied herself to disapparate. As she extended her wand-arm, a hand clamped down on her mouth.

A scream bubbled in her throat, snatched by the unbreakable hold across her lips. The body of the intruder moved in behind Marlene, using its spare hand to grasp her wrist and redirect her wand. But the touch was gentle. Why was it so gentle? And then, suddenly, she recognised the feel of those fingertips, the shape of that body pressed against her. Rosier.

With her heart pounding for an altogether different reason, Marlene twisted in her captor's grasp. And there he was, just as he had been four months ago. Except harder. Stonier. He removed his hand from her mouth and pressed a finger to his lips. Footsteps began reverberating off wooden steps. Then, Rosier tightened his grip around her wrist and Marlene was jolted from the landing, her lungs flattened as an invisible force enveloped her. Just as she thought her skull was going to implode, Marlene landed painfully on marble floor, spluttering and gulping desperately for breath.

"Don't _do_ that," Marlene gasped, doubled over with her hands massaging life back into her bruised lungs.

"What, save your life?" Rosier retorted brusquely, scooping up Marlene's wand that had clattered to the ground. He held it outstretched.

Cautiously, Marlene retrieved it, noticing the heated flush in Rosier's cheeks and the laboured way in which he breathed.

"What do you mean?" Marlene had intended the question to be authoritative, but it merely came out small.

Rosier sighed and raked a hand across the nape of his neck. "I'll explain. But, first, I'll get you some clothes. You must be freezing."

With a jolt, Marlene realised the only thing keeping her decent was a chiffon nighty that barely brushed her thighs. Curling her bare feet into the marble she mumbled a mortified _thanks_ and avoided his eye. She could feel him grinning, in that way he always did when he was relishing in her discomfort.

As he guided her, Marlene finally took notice of her surroundings. They had arrived in a grand marble hall, bordered by sweeping staircases that led to a mezzanine landing, with enormous portraits of aristocratic men adorning the walls and a colossal chandelier hanging from the high ceilings, with its dimmed lamps offering insufficient light to fill such a space. As she ascended the staircase, Marlene could feel her jaw gaping in awe and was only too aware of Rosier watching her. She snapped it shut and desisted in her eager examination of what she could only assume to be Evan Rosier's home.

"Left," he directed as she reached yet another corridor. "First door on the right." Marlene hovered awkwardly on the threshold of a large bedroom, ornamented with mahogany furniture and a grand four-poster bed. Rosier crossed it in a few strides and busied himself in a chest of drawers.

"Is – is your father here?" Marlene asked worriedly, suddenly feeling the cold.

"No," Rosier responded quickly. "He's busy. He's – he's away." Tension that she didn't even realise she was holding slumped from Marlene's shoulders. "Here," Rosier said, tossing clothes in Marlene's direction. She caught them deftly and inspected them. "They'll be a bit big, but it's better than nothing."

Rosier turned his back to her as Marlene stepped into a pair of flannel trousers and pulled a jumper over her head. A laugh that fell involuntarily from her lips caused Rosier to spin around, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "What do you think?" Marlene asked with a grin, presenting sleeves that fell inches beyond her fingertips and trouser legs that pooled against the floor.

Rosier laughed, a genuine sound that lifted the corners of his eyes. He closed the gap between them and stooped to the ground. "Here," he said, rolling the hems so that they hung at her ankles. Rosier straightened up and took Marlene's wrists in his hands, adjusting the sleeves in the same way. She watched him work, marvelling at the innocence and the simplicity of the gesture, and yet alarmed by the way it made the blood rush to her face and her heartbeat spike. And then, unwillingly, she was jolted back to the reality of the situation.

"Evan, what am I doing here?"

He finished the last sleeve and let her wrist drop where it hung uncomfortably. Rosier rubbed the back of his neck again and stared unfocusedly past Marlene's shoulder.

"Would you like a drink?"

Marlene rolled her eyes. Of course. Evan Rosier wanted booze.

"Don't give me that!" he protested. "Trust me – this conversation is best had over a drink."

Marlene pressed her lips together, suddenly unsure whether she wanted to discover what _this conversation_ would entail. "Okay," she murmured uncertainly.

Rosier led her through numerous corridors, all lined with expensive tapestries and Victorian candelabrums, until they arrived in a room that was peppered with lush sofas, intricately woven rugs and a fireplace that was as tall as Marlene herself. "This must have been a difficult place to grow up," Marlene said jokingly, running her hand across a mahogany coffee table as Rosier occupied himself in a beautifully carved liquor cabinet. "All this space. All this money."

Rosier scoffed. "As kids, we were confined to the west wing of the house. No breakables there. And no toys, because toys are untidy."

"We?" Marlene enquired, taking a seat on one of the plush sofas. "You have siblings?"

"No," he replied, turning to face her with a goblet in each hand. "It was good for my father's image when I played with other pureblood kids."

She took a goblet with a murmur of thanks and swilled the liquid in circles before taking a tiny sip. It had a sweet flavour with a pleasing warming sensation as it trickled down her throat.

There was a moment of silence. Marlene took a deep breath. "Who was at my house?"

Rosier exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair before taking a healthy swallow from his goblet. "Travers."

"Travers?"

Rosier nodded. "And others."

"And others?"

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. "Please don't make me say it. "

"Were they there to kill me?" she asked with forced nonchalance, running a fingertip along the rim of the goblet. After a moment of no reply, Marlene looked with expectance at Rosier who was watching her with sadness in his eyes. "Were they?" He nodded curtly. She returned her gaze to the goblet, twisting it so that the gems embedded into its stem reflected a rainbow of colours.

Rosier took a deep breath. "You, and – "

Horrified, Marlene's widened eyes fastened on Rosier. "Me _and_?!" she shrilled. "Me and who?!"

"Anthony Abbott. You and Anthony Abbott."

Marlene leapt to her feet, the goblet falling from her fingertips and clattering against the floor, spreading a puddle of sticky liquid across an invaluable rug. "He – is he – he has a _baby_. He _has a baby_!"

"Marlene!" Rosier said urgently, trying in vain to still her thrashing limbs, her frenzied search for her wand. "Stop! It's done. There's nothing you can do."

"You arsehole, Evan Rosier!" she shrieked. "You let him die. You _killed him_!"

"And I saved you!" he thundered, his eyes lit with anger.

"I don't need to be saved by you," she spat, glaring at him with burning abhorrence. "Show me your arm."

"What?" he said, startled by the abrupt change in conversation.

"Show me your arm."

Realisation dawned on him and a steel mask replaced his expression. "No."

Marlene ripped her wrist from his grasp and clawed at his sleeve, pushing it away from his skin. Against the pale curve of his left forearm rested a jet-black tattoo: a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. With a fingertip that didn't quite touch his skin, she traced it in stony silence. "Congratulations," she said, unable to mask the anguish bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "You did it."

When she met his eye, he was watching her with conflicting emotions. But he said nothing. All that desolation that had overwhelmed her not a moment ago turned into a fiery mass of vehemence, racing through her like a volcano, erupting from her mouth in a screech of fury. " _How could you?_ " she screamed, fingernails raining down upon his skin, feverishly trying to draw blood. " _HOW COULD YOU_?!" Rosier threw his arms across his face, protecting himself from the onslaught.

Amidst Marlene's hysterical cursing, Rosier grasped her wrists in a pincer-like grip. There was desperation in his eyes. "Marlene, please. Stop!" Marlene refused to desist her struggling, avoiding his eye for she knew it would weaken her resolve.

Exasperatedly, Rosier placed one knee on the plush sofa and tackled Marlene onto it, incapacitating her. "I did it because I had to," he hissed angrily as Marlene struggled to regain her breath. "And I saved you because I couldn't bear to think of you dead."

She froze. A heart was beating, but Marlene wasn't sure if it was Rosier's or her own. Through ragged breathing, she struggled to a kneeling position. Eyes widened with shock, Marlene searched his face. Despite what looked like regret in those dark eyes, or perhaps even fear, Rosier didn't look away. With a trembling hand, Marlene touched his cheek. She ran her fingertips across his cheekbones, across his jawline, his collarbone. Something awoke deep within her, stronger than ever before. An urge. A desire. Something red-hot and unyielding; something that pulsed deep within her. She could feel the heat from his body rolling off him in waves. Marlene was suddenly aware of everywhere she was touching him – her fingertips, her knees where they brushed his legs. Rosier raised his own hand. It quavered as it pushed a curl of hair from her eyes. Slowly, Marlene leaned in. She felt his breath hitch as she grazed her lips against his, discovering the gentle curve in the way that they parted.

"Why is it," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut in pleasure as he stroked his fingertips through her hair. "That I feel so safe here? Right here. I feel safe."

His teeth grazed her lower lip and his breath tickled her cheek. "I would never hurt you, Marlene. I would die first."

A fear that she hadn't even known she harboured burst in her chest at the very thought, warring simultaneously with a strange and unspeakable happiness at the intensity of his pledge. "It scares me, Evan," she whispered as his lips brushed her jawline, leaving a burning trail to her neck. "We shouldn't be – this shouldn't be – " she stopped suddenly as he kissed her, his breath hot on her mouth.

"I don't care what it should or shouldn't be," he breathed, pulling back an inch and holding her chin between soft fingertips. His eyes burned as she pulled him closer, pressing herself against him. "And if anyone should be afraid, it should be me," he said. "I never know who I am around you. You - you make me feel – "

Marlene silenced him by covering his lips with her own. "I know who you are," she murmured as his hand slipped beneath her jumper, resting softly on the small of her back. "I know exactly who you are."

* * *

She watched him sleep. The gentle way his chest rose and fell, the thin part in his lips, the fluttering eyelashes. They were lying with entwined limbs beneath a nest of blankets, his arm wound protectively around her shoulder, her head resting gently on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, the only certainty. Marlene knew that, when the dawn broke, she would have a decision to make. But, for now, she closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of his skin touching hers.


	9. A Husband, a Father, and a Friend

**NOVEMBER 1979**

With a wordless spell, Marlene ignited the tip of her candle. She held it to her chest, where the flickering light splashed her chin. Beside her, a teardrop of warm light appeared. And then another. And another, and another, until a sea of quivering flames illuminated the desolate faces of their owners.

Across the darkened lawn, a baby was squirming in the arms of its mother. Its tiny face was scrunched up, with a thumb nestled cosily between its tiny lips. Hannah Abbot was blissfully unaware that she was attending the funeral of her father.

The graveyard at Godric's Hollow was unusually crowded. One by one, each member of the Order stooped and placed their candle on the ivory tombstone beside the mound of freshly dug earth. Sobs shattered the quiet as Jane Abbott knelt beside her husband's grave, cradling their daughter to her breast with one hand and tracing the block letters of ANTHONY ABBOTT with the other. Tears spilled from Marlene's eyes as she realised that she probably knew about Anthony's death before his wife did. Guiltily, ashamedly, she looked away. She felt a weight stir at her shoulder. She glanced left to see Caradoc, his eyes glassy and his jaw clenched.

Albus Dumbledore stood by Jane's side as she struggled to her feet. Absent was the characteristic twinkle in his eye; only sorrow remained as he comforted the widow, a steady hand on her forearm as he spoke to her in a low voice.

Slowly, as murmurs of respect and condolences were shared with the family, the crowd thinned. Mary's hand appeared on Marlene's elbow and gently steered her from the graveyard. They joined their friends who were milling around on the illuminated path just beyond the low brick wall.

"We're thinking of going to the Leaky Cauldron," James said. Peter hovered by his side, trembling even more than usual. "To have a drink in Anthony's honour. Tom's got a bottle of mead on hold. Says he wants to pay his respects."

Marlene nodded, pulling her cloak closer against the chill.

"Let's stagger it in pairs, though," Dorcas said. "So we don't all appear in London at once."

"Ever the sensible one, little Doe," Sirius said with a somewhat forced playful smile, trying to lift the morose atmosphere amongst the group.

"I'll go with this one," Dorcas replied, gesturing at Sirius. "Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble." Sirius raised a hand in salute before offering his arm to Dorcas. They disappeared with a _pop_. Lily and James went next, followed by Mary and Dorcas, and then Remus and Peter.

A noise startled Marlene and she turned around to find Caradoc resting against the brick wall, looking sombre. "I was wondering if I could join you guys," he said softly. "We never got to have that drink together after Tuesday's meeting was cancelled, and I definitely could use one now." He smiled weakly.

Tuesday! Damn – how could she forget? So much had happened recently, and an artificial date did not top the list. Thinking about meeting with Caradoc hadn't filled her with butterflies, like it should have, but rather reluctance paired with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, like an unexplainable guilt. And every time she closed her eyes, it wasn't Caradoc she saw. It was Rosier. But, how simple would it be if Caradoc turned out to be the man she was supposed to end up with? No more sneaking around. No more confusion. No more feelings of boundless joy battling against crippling regret.

He was watching her expectantly. "Of course," Marlene said. He smiled with relief, and yet the smile was still sad. "Maybe we could stay for one drink more, after the others have left. To make up for Tuesday."

"That would be nice," he said gratefully before extending his arm to Marlene. A moment later they appeared on Charing Cross Road. Together, they darted between oblivious Muggles and their deathly vehicles before entering the Leaky Cauldron. The chatter of patrons greeted them alongside the pleasant warmth that drifted from the giant fireplace, out of which a wizard would occasionally emerge, brushing soot from his shoulders. In the corner of the room, beside the bar, a group of subdued witches and wizards sat around a circle of tables that had been pulled together. They spoke in low voices, staring at their drinks and rarely smiling. Marlene and Caradoc made their way over and sat at the two empty chairs.

"I hope you don't mind me joining you," Caradoc said as he slipped off his cloak.

"Not at all," Remus said amiably. Mary's eyebrow arched in surprise.

Sirius gestured for the barman and Tom headed for their table, his head bowed. He shook Caradoc's hand and greeted Marlene with a nod. "It's good to see you all here together, even if it is under these circumstances." He paused and stared off into the distance. "You know, I gave Anthony his first job when he left Hogwarts. He worked here for the summer. Lovely lad." Those gathered bowed their heads as personal memories, now marred by the pain of loss, came unwittingly to mind. "But, anyway," he placed two extra glasses on the table. "Drinks are on me tonight."

They murmured their thanks as Tom retreated behind the bar. Remus sighed before filling Caradoc's glass.

"Lily, are you not having one?" Marlene asked suddenly, noticing the odd number of glasses.

She smiled somewhat nervously and shook her head. "We didn't know when to tell you this – and now probably isn't the most appropriate time," Lily began as James took her hand between his. She placed her spare hand on her abdomen.

"No – way – " Mary gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth.

Lily grinned. "We're having a baby."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Suddenly, Sirius roared with delight and jumped up, hauling his best friend to his feet and embracing him so violently that they nearly upturned the table. Remus swamped James with thumps on the back, and Peter hovered by James' elbow, squeaking his congratulations. Marlene's shrieks mingled with those of Dorcas' and Mary's as they fell on Lily with hugs and tears and mouths in the shape of a permanent _o_.

"Bloody hell, Prongs," Sirius said, once he had settled down. "A _dad_. You're going to have a baby."

James grinned, clear elation in his eyes. "I know, mate. Hardly seems real."

"I'm gonna' be such a fun uncle. I'll teach him how to fly. Or buy him one of those massive bikes, y'know the ones Muggles have – "

"You are _not_ ," Lily interrupted amidst laughter from the group. "You'll be going through a safety regulation check before you get within five feet of my kid." She smiled teasingly. "And what makes you so sure it'll be a boy?"

"Just a feeling."

"I'm so happy for you both," Dorcas said, her eyes shiny with tears. Lily squeezed her hand.

"When – when are you due?" Peter stammered in that nervous way that Marlene had grown to associate with Peter Pettigrew.

Lily counted on her fingers. "July, probably. Late July."

Peter's eyes widened with shock and his mouth gaped like a fish. "The end of July?"

"And that right there was James' exact reaction," Lily said, gesturing at Peter's stunned, and somewhat frightened, expression. Marlene laughed.

"Hey, gimme' a break!" James said. "July is _really_ close, alright."

"Well, you better get used to it, mister," Lily said, poking a finger into her husband's shoulder. "Because it's only going to get closer."

James caught her fingertips and kissed them. "I know."

Marlene looked away, smiling to herself, only to find Caradoc watching her closely. He averted his eyes suddenly, embarrassed to have been seen.

"Thank you for telling us," Remus said. "It's so nice to get some good news for a change." Thoughtful silence met his words. "I'm sorry," Remus said quickly. "I didn't mean to dampen the mood."

"No, Moony, you're right," Sirius said. "If we don't celebrate moments like these, I'll end up forgetting how to laugh." His face contorted in mock-fear at the very thought.

"You're going to be such amazing parents," Marlene said quietly. "That kid is going to have the greatest life." Her words had touched them. James beamed and Lily blinked away tears.

"Well, I hate to cut this short, but _some of us_ have work tomorrow," Mary said, glaring jokingly at Marlene and Sirius.

"Hey!" Marlene protested. "Just because I don't work Wednesdays, it doesn't mean I don't work. Can't speak for that one, though," she said with a jerk of her thumb towards Sirius. "He's just lazy."

"Just filthy stinking rich, I think you'll find," Sirius said with a grin. "Thank you, Uncle Alphard."

"Yeah, well, not all of us can have rich Black uncles," grumbled Mary. She turned to Lily. "You ever need a back rub, or a foot rub, or pickles and ice cream at three in the morning, you know where to find me."

Lily laughed. "Thanks, Mary. I'll keep that in mind."

"Shall we call it a night?" Remus asked as he drained the last of his drink.

There were murmurs of agreement from the group as they began readying themselves to leave. Embraces and words of farewell were shared as, one by one, the crowd thinned.

"Marlene, you coming?" Sirius looked at her expectantly as he slipped into his cloak.

"Uh – I think I'm going to stay," she said.

Sirius looked suspiciously between Marlene and Caradoc until realisation dawned on his face. "Oh."

"Come on," Mary said, steering Sirius from the pub. "Let's leave these two alone." She flagrantly winked towards them both before disappearing.

They were alone.

"You have wonderful friends," Caradoc said simply as Marlene turned back to the now mostly-empty table.

She nodded, smiling. "I think so."

"Enjoy those moments," he said, suddenly solemn. "You never know if – " He stopped suddenly, as if shocked with himself.

"If they're going to be the last," Marlene finished gently. She bowed her head. "I'm so sorry, Caradoc. About Anthony. I know you were close."

His lip quivered as he looked at his drink. Caradoc took a deep breath before replying. "We grew up together. I didn't know anything about this world – " he gestured towards the fireplace that had just turned green, and then towards the glasses that were cleaning themselves at the bar – "and when I got on that train, I was shaking. Anthony sat with me and told me everything I needed to know." Caradoc smiled sadly as he recalled the memory. "He was sorted just before I was and he made sure there was a seat right next to him. I was invited to every Abbott Christmas.

"And we did everything that kids do together, you know. And then we grew up, and he became a husband. And then a dad. And then he was murdered." Caradoc's voice broke on the last syllable. Marlene looked away as he angrily wiped his eyes.

"I am so sorry," she said quietly. After a moment of hesitation, she reached across the table and took his hand. Surprised flitted across his face before he composed himself and smiled. And then that smile was replaced by a look of pure thunder as something beyond Marlene's shoulder caught his eye.

"You..." Caradoc spat, his iron voice carving a silence into the animated pub. His grip tightened on Marlene's hand as she span around. A pair of men had emerged from the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, the soot invisible upon their dark cloaks. One, Marlene didn't recognise. The second, however – his eyes found hers immediately. And then his eyes found her fingers entwined in Caradoc's.

Instinctively, Marlene withdrew her hand. Evan watched her every movement, his expression unreadable. And, then, from nowhere, a surge of anger hit her as she pictured Anthony's widow weeping over his grave. _You did this,_ she thought with trembling fury. _You could have stopped this._ And then his voice rose unconsciously to her mind: " _I saved you_." She closed her eyes momentarily. No one knew what was supposed to happen that night. No one but her knew that Anthony was dead whilst Marlene survived.

The second of the duo, whose white-blonde curved perfectly around his pale, pointed face, glanced towards the source of the noise. A twisted smile spread across his face. "Good evening, Mr Dearborn," the man said icily, a glint in his eyes. "A lovely evening for a drink, isn't it?"

"You bastard." Caradoc's voice was trembling with fury. He rose slowly to his feet, his hand disappearing between the folds of his cloak. Marlene watched as Evan reached for his own wand, his eyes never leaving Marlene. Were those words, huskily whispered by firelight, were they just words? How much was Evan Rosier _really_ readily to sacrifice for Marlene?

"Now, now," the blonde man said, his eyebrows furrowed in mock outrage. "Is there any need for such language?" Subtly, he waved a dismissive hand and Evan lessened the grip on his wand. The patrons of the pub were watching the events unfold with hesitant fear. Tom had appeared from the back, where he lingered behind the bar, unwilling to interfere in case it exacerbated the tension, but not wanting his pub to be torn apart in a furious brawl.

"Caradoc," Marlene murmured cautiously. He had pulled his wand from his robes and he was holding it at his waist with a trembling hand. She placed a hand of warning on his wrist. As she did so, Evan raised his wand. Marlene couldn't tell who he was aiming for.

"Listen to your lady," the blonde man said with a sneer. A flash of recognition appeared in his grey eyes as they raked over Marlene and his smirk deepened. "There's no need to cause a meaningless death, is there?"

Fire blazed in Caradoc's eyes as he raised his wand. "Caradoc!" Marlene shrieked, jumping into his line of attack. Her heart pounded as she willed herself to do anything to stop a fight from unfolding. Caradoc's eyes flashed to her, irritated. And then they softened. He realised his surroundings: the potential for collateral damage, the vulnerability of their position. He took a deep breath and lowered his wand. Marlene span around and glared fiercely at the cloaked men. "Leave," she said, breathing heavily. "You've done enough." Evan's stony face flickered. Marlene pleaded with him with her eyes. _Leave, Evan. Don't make me fight this fight._

"Let's go," Evan murmured, as he, for the first time, tore his dark eyes from Marlene. "Come on, Lucius."

With a smirk, Lucius flipped his cloak and followed Evan out of the back of the pub towards Diagon Alley.

There was a moment of silence before the pub filled with hesitant voices and the occasional nervous laugh. Caradoc was leaning over the table, his fingernails carving crescent moons into the wood and his knuckles white. "Are you okay?" Marlene asked quietly.

Caradoc blew out a shaky breath and nodded. When he looked at her, he was pale. "Can I take you home?"


	10. Absolute Brute

**DECEMBER 1979**

Marlene tapped her fingers anxiously against the desk. Her lips were pursed in concentration, her vision only seeing the jumbled thoughts that were racing through her mind. She hadn't seen Evan since the Leaky Cauldron, but she couldn't rid her mind of his blank, callous expression. But that expression, she reminded herself, was not the problem. More important was the predicament of being in love with a Death Eater.

Marlene had panicked the first time she had admitted this to herself. After Caradoc had left her at the door to her family home – running an embarrassed hand through his hair, smiling lopsidedly and quietly apologising for the scene he had made in the pub –, Marlene had spent close to an hour pacing the kitchen. She thought about Evan, about how desperately she wanted to speak to him. How only he could relate to this fragmentation of loyalties, this plaguing guilt. Her skin crawled with fear as she recalled the feeling of being caught between what was right and what she couldn't control: Caradoc and Evan.

A small voice in her head tried, in vain, to remind her of the terrible things Evan had done, and what he was capable of. And a larger, more dominant voice replied. _I can't help it,_ it said. _I love him_.

"Um – excuse me? Dear, are you quite alright?" A concerned voice had Marlene lurching back to the present. Her chin slipped from her elbow and she jerked back into concentration.

"Oh! Oh – I do apologise," said Marlene hurriedly, jumping to her feet and smoothing down her light blue Welcome Witch robes. A squat woman with mousy hair and a kind face was watching her anxiously. She had one hand on the shoulder of a little boy whose face had a greenish-tinge. "What can I help you with?"

"It's my son," the woman said. She presented the young boy's hand to Marlene, where a purple and green scratch was appearing between his fingers. "You don't think it's anything serious, do you? I mean, the book said – " Suddenly, the little boy sneezed, emitting sparks from his nose.

"You need the second floor," Marlene said urgently as she scribbled something down onto a slip of paper before passing it to the mother. She pointed out the staircase at the opposite end of St. Mungos' reception room. "Take this and give it to the first Healer you see."

Aghast, the woman nodded and hurried her son towards the stairs.

Marlene exhaled deeply and flopped back into her seat. The minutes ticked by. She allowed her eyes to lazily sweep the reception room before they fell out of focus. Once more, she tapped her fingers anxiously against the desk.

* * *

The anxiety followed her home. Marlene paced the living room, books littered across the sofa and the radio humming softly in the background – vain attempts at distraction that offered little solace for her racing mind. She considered apparating to see him, but ruled out the thought instantly. There were a lot of unsavoury visitors that Evan was likely to entertain, and Marlene did not want to hedge her bets with any of them.

Marlene blew a frustrated breath from her lips before charging to the hallway and grabbing her cloak from beside the front door. She threw it on and left her house, slamming the door behind her and stepping into the dark night. Marlene only made it a few steps before she noticed a huddled mass crouching on her porch. Her heart jolted with fear. Quickly, she ignited her wand and, as the light melted away the darkness, Marlene found Evan leaning against the side of her house, his knees pulled to his chest and his eyes closed. His lips sagged with the weight of unconsciousness; he was breathing deeply, seemingly unfazed by the cold that materialised itself in small clouds of vapour with each exhale. He was sleeping.

Crouching to his level, Marlene inspected him closer with her wand. He was shivering involuntarily. She placed a hand against his cheek and felt ice. "Evan," she murmured, rubbing her thumb against his skin. "Wake up." He stirred hazily, his eyes forming slits against the brightness of Marlene's wand. She extinguished it stowed it in her robes. Evan blinked away the sleep and let his eyes rake over her, seeking her beneath the shroud of darkness.

"Hi," he whispered. There was alcohol on his breath.

Marlene slipped an arm beneath his shoulder and, obediently, Evan clambered to his feet. She helped him through the threshold of her home and led him into the living room, steering him onto the couch.

" _Incendio_ ," she whispered, brandishing her wand at the prepared fireplace. Flames sprang to life, hungrily licking the stacks of firewood. Marlene turned back to Evan and crouched down in front of him. "You're freezing."

Evan shrugged, avoiding her eye. He was still shivering.

His cloak sat heavily upon his shoulders. "You're soaking wet," she said, slight admonishment in her voice. Evan simply looked at the fire. "Give me your cloak." There was a moment where Marlene thought he was going to argue; but, then, he slipped it from his shoulders and handed it over. With a complicated wave of her wand, hot air began streaming onto the sodden cloak, and steam rose from it in lazy spirals. Once it was dry, Marlene hung it over the back of the armchair and turned her attention back to Evan. His eyes remained steadfastly fastened on the flames.

Beneath his cloak, Evan was wearing a black shirt and jeans. Muggle clothes. Marlene frowned. She very rarely saw Evan in Muggle clothes. And they were ripped.

She sat beside him on the sofa. "What's going on?" He ignored her.

"Evan," she said. She placed a hand on each of his cheek and manoeuvred his face so that he had no choice but to look at her. He complied willingly, as if all the fight had left him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and his eyes were unfocused, hazy. "You're drunk."

"So what if I am?" he murmured as he clumsily batted at her hands.

"You can't keep doing this, Evan," she said, her voice growing louder with the sort of scared anger that only loved ones can summon. "You can't just drink whenever something gets difficult. You're going to kill yourself."

He looked at her with pain in his eyes. "I can't – I – I have to," he mumbled. He gave a sharp shake of his head as if ridding a painful memory, before his head fell into his hand. "I've – I can't – "

Evan raked a hand across his face and, as he did so, she noticed a raw and bloody mess streaked across his knuckles. "What did you do?" she gasped, grabbing his wrist and inspecting the damage.

He smiled humourlessly before speaking with slurred words. "I might have done some damage to your front porch. I – I was angry. I couldn't be like that around you, so I waited outside. And – "

"And then you fell asleep," Marlene guessed. Evan nodded. Marlene summoned a rag and a bowl of water from the kitchen and, gently, she cleaned Evan's wound before bandaging it. All the while, Evan stared emptily and unflinchingly into the fire.

"Evan," she said gently, unable to keep the concern from her voice. "What happened?"

He looked desperately at Marlene. "He – He wanted us to – "

"Who, Evan?"

"The – the Dark Lord."

Marlene pressed her lips together, flooded with horror. What had he done? "What happened?"

Evan stared hollowly into the fire. "Muggles – there was a bookshop that sold books on witchcraft and he – we – " Evan shuddered. "We burnt it."

Marlene's hands jumped to her lips. She leapt to her feet and backed away from the sofa. "How many?" she whispered.

Frenziedly, clumsily, he climbed to his own feet, as if that would somehow make the information easier for Marlene to digest. He looked at her with wide eyes.

"How _many_ , Evan?"

"Four." She sucked a breath in between her teeth, her body trembling. He took a step towards her and Marlene lurched backwards.

"Don't." Her voice was hard, betraying none of the repulsion, the fear, the anger that coursed through her veins. "Did you cast it?" She demanded. "Did you cast the spell?"

"Does it matter?" he retorted brusquely. "I stood there and did nothing. I watched as they died and those with me laughed. They _laughed,_ Marlene." All the colour drained from his face, his eyes glossing over as he stared unfocusedly over her shoulder. "The screams – " He stopped suddenly, once more jerking his head dismissively. And then he collapsed. Evan fell to his knees onto the carpeted floor, his head buried in his arms, his shoulders shaking. As she watched him crumble, the repulsion that shielded her heart began to melt.

But she could not do this anymore.

"I can't be there for you, Evan," she whispered. "I can't be waiting for you to come home and tell me you've murdered someone." She fell to her knees beside him. "This is not you. You are not a killer." Marlene placed a hand under his chin and raised it. "But I can't wait around for you to realise that."

As the gravity of her words sunk in, the colour drained from Evan's face. And then he sighed. "I can't ask you to," he murmured. He covered her hand with his own and dragged his lips across her palm. Fire burned where he touched her. With tremendous willpower, Marlene withdrew her hand. She reached for her wand and, moments later, a blanket and a pillow came hurtling from upstairs and landed heavily on the sofa. An empty glass on the coffee table filled itself with water. She took Evan's wand so that he couldn't apparate in his delicate state.

"Good night, Evan." Marlene did not look back as she climbed the stairs.

Once in bed, Marlene tossed and turned. Every time she closed her eyes, the darkness was filled with the roar of flames and a cackle of mirth. And then they would snap open, and she would lie awake in the darkness, her heart pounding. The thought of Evan, lying metres below her, filled her with the strangest paradox of emotions. How could she be in love with a man who, hours earlier, had watched innocent people die? Did that make her a monster, too?

She buried her head into her pillow in order to soak up the tears.

* * *

What felt like hours later – or what merely could have been minutes – Marlene was tiptoeing downstairs. She hovered on the last step, watching the gentle rise and fall of Evan's chest beneath the blanket. The stair creaked beneath her feet and Evan shifted. He had not slept either. Evan struggled to a sitting position and cocked his head questioningly.

"You promised me you'd never hurt me. How much are you willing to keep that promise?" Marlene kept her eyes trained on his tired faced, and not on the way the dying embers threw his half-naked body into definition. "Because, if you're being truly honest, not hurting me means not hurting anyone else."

"I can't leave, Marlene. They'd kill me, and then they'd kill you."

"They can try."

Evan blew out an exasperated sigh, so rough that it almost sounded like a growl. "You don't know what they're capable of."

"Don't treat me like a child, Evan," she retorted angrily. "I know exactly what they're capable of. They've threatened my friends. They've torn their families apart. And they murdered my parents – or did you forget about that? I know _exactly_ what they're capable of, Evan, because it has been me and my friends that have suffered it."

"I know." His voice was hoarse.

"You know? That's it? Are you kidding me, Evan?" she demanded, her fist angrily clenching the bannister. "If you care that much about keeping yourself safe, then I suggest you get the hell out of here before someone catches you."

Anger flared to life in Evan's eyes. When he spoke, his voice trembled with barely contained fury, quiet and dangerous. "I will not let you think for one minute that I care about protecting myself."

Then the anger dissipated. Evan dragged a palm across his face, still shaking. Then he shrugged the blankets off his knees and rose slightly unsteadily to his feet. There was deliberate slowness in the way he approached her, almost as if he was seeking permission from her body language. She froze, one hand on the bannister, watching his steady advance.

"I am so sorry," he whispered. He closed the gap between them, hovering a step below her, and pushed a lock of hair from Marlene's downcast eyes.

Marlene took a step backwards, feeling for the incline of the step with her heel. Evan's hand fell to his side and curled into a fist. For a moment Marlene thought he might punch something. But it wasn't anger in his eyes that she saw; it was despair.

Hesitantly, she looked at him, and then she made up her mind.

"Will you come upstairs?" she whispered faintly. "Not for – I just – I don't want to sleep alone." Evan nodded.

Moments later, Marlene collapsed into bed, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. Evan slipped in beside her, keeping a respectful distance. The scent of alcohol had disappeared and now he smelled like fresh air and soap, and his body heat saturated her sheets like a warm bath.

"I haven't forgiven you, Evan," she whispered through closed eyes, and she felt him tense beside her. "Not yet. I want you to make me believe you. And I don't want you to go back to them."

She opened her eyes. Evan was staring at her, his lips pressed together. But he said nothing.

Eloise shifted her weight and rolled over, so that she wouldn't be able to see his face, so she wouldn't be tempted to close the gap between them and be drawn into his embrace. With the warmth of his body behind her, the smell of him on her sheets, Eloise fell asleep within minutes.

* * *

Light trickled through a gap in the curtains, falling vexingly across Marlene's eyes. She groaned and stirred, eyelids fluttering in protest against the break of day. And then she felt something stir beside her, and the memory of the night before came flooding back. She lay still, willing it to have been a dream. But it was not a dream. Today, four lots of families would awake with the crushing and debilitating discovery of their loss. And there were people, people that called themselves friends of Evan's, that celebrated their loss.

When Marlene went downstairs, she found Evan at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He stirred when she leant in the doorway and looked at her through dark-ringed and bloodshot eyes. "Hi," he said hoarsely.

"Hi," she repeated.

"I would have left, but you took my wand."

"You would have died if you had apparated. I was trying to help."

He smiled faintly. "I know."

Something so quiet and so tense hovered overhead, like a weight trying to push shoulders underwater. Words and feeling and curses hovered on both of their lips. What could not be conveyed in words was attempted through eyes full of desperation and hopelessness.

"I can mend your shirt," she said, holding out one hand.

Evan glanced towards his torso and eyed the shredded shoulder of his shirt. He shrugged and pulled it off, passing it to Marlene. She stared brazenly at his bared torso and the way his biceps curved, the broadness of his shoulders. Then she looked away.

"Your wand is upstairs on the chest of drawers," she said quietly. "This will only take a second." She did not look at him as she took the seat opposite. He paused, inhaling as if he was about to speak. And then he blew out a sigh and left the room. As Marlene heard his footsteps on the stairs, her shoulders racked with a silent sob. She composed herself quickly, in case he returned, and spread his shirt across the table.

As she began to mend the damage, there was a knock at her back door.

Marlene snatched at the shirt and balled it into her fist. Her eyes flashed to the living room, where a blanket and pillow were folded neatly on the couch. If she just stayed quiet, whoever it was might just leave…

"Marlene?" a muffled voice said through the door. And, then, the sound of a key turning in a lock echoed painfully throughout the silent kitchen. Marlene was frozen in place as the door peeped open and Dorcas stepped through.

"The key works!" she said brightly, holding up a copy. _How could Marlene have been so stupid?_ Each Order member had created a copy of their house key and swapped it with another, so that they could exhibit a "safety in pairs" approach. Marlene remained motionless, a stunned expression across her face. What was she going to do? Would Evan hear the commotion and stay upstairs?

"Dorcas!" Marlene said, unable to mask the surprise in her voice. Dorcas looked at her with slight concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay, Marlene? You look – you look a little pale."

Marlene shook her head and plastered a smile across her lips. "Sorry, I was in a completely different place and you startled me, is all."

"Oh, I'm sorry. We should have a code word, or something. So you know it's me."

Marlene forced a chuckle. "That's not a bad idea."

Without realising it, Marlene was tapping the table anxiously with her fingertips. In her other hand, below the table, Marlene held Evan's shirt in an iron grip. Dorcas raised her eyebrows slightly at her friend's jumpy demeanour but said nothing. "I know you don't start work until twelve," Dorcas continued, breezing over the obvious discomfort. "But I thought we could get lunch beforehand. Maybe we could – " Dorcas stopped suddenly as footsteps sounded on the stairs, pounding one at a time, as heavy as the beating of Marlene's heart. Confusion pinched at Dorcas' eyebrows. "Is someone here?" she whispered.

All Marlene could do is gape at her friend. And then Evan came through the door.

A tense moment can stretch out for what seems like an eternity. In reality, one knows that it comes and goes as quickly as any other moment. But the brain, kicks into overdrive, does everything it possibly can to assess the gravity of the moment, and that process seems to last forever.

Wearing just a pair of jeans, Evan Rosier pushed open the kitchen door and stepped in. At first, his eyes did not notice the blonde, standing inconspicuously at the threshold of the house. Instead his eyes found Marlene's, whose were wide with horror and disbelief. A shuddery gasp from the corner of the room alerted him to the intruder. Dorcas Meadows threw her hands over her mouth and leapt backwards, colliding with a cabinet. The mug that shattered as a result seemed inconsequential compared to the deafening silence that filled the room.

"What is he doing here?" she cried shrilly. Her eyes were focused unwaveringly on Evan, whose face had developed that hard mask of callousness. She eyed the wand he was holding loosely at the end of his fingers, and then his bare torso, before looking wildly between the two, desperately searching for some kind of explanation.

"Listen," Marlene said pleadingly, taking a few desperate steps towards her friend. Her heart felt like it was going to burst in her chest. "I can't – I can't explain this easily, but you have to calm down." Dorcas' hand was shaking so violently it was a miracle she hadn't dropped the key. "Can you just sit down?"

"Marlene, I need to go," said Evan quietly.

"No!" said Marlene, jumping to her feet and turning on him. "You are not using this as an excuse to disappear again. Both of you – _sit down_."

Evan glared at Marlene, his eyes darting between her and Dorcas with barely concealed frustration. He strode fully into the kitchen and grasped Marlene by the shoulders, learning forward to murmur into her ear. "No one can know, Marlene. It's too dangerous."

"It's too late for that now," she said in a small voice, looking imploringly into his dark eyes.

Marlene turned to face Dorcas, forcing Evan's hands to drop uselessly to his side, to see her face ashen and her eyes bright with tears. "I don't believe it." Her voice was barely a whisper. " _Him_ , Marlene? He is a brute. An absolute brute." She spoke about him as if he wasn't in the room, as if he was so beyond repair that he had no feelings to hurt anymore.

"I don't have time for this." Evan's voice was as hard as nails, but his eyes betrayed something that Marlene had come to recognise as pain.

Marlene ignored him and took a step towards Dorcas. Then, defeated, she blew out a sigh. Marlene wanted more than anything for Dorcas to see Evan through her own eyes, to know what she knew. But how was that possible, when even Marlene didn't know how to look at him?

"Maybe you should go, Evan." She turned to him, to see his arms folded across his bare chest and his expression shaped by bitterness. Only then did Marlene realise she was still gripping tightly to his recently mended t-shirt. She handed it to him and he pulled it swiftly over his head.

"Fine." He summoned his cloak from the living room and shrugged into it. Then he strode into the middle of the kitchen, pausing momentarily beside Marlene. He stared down at her, a plethora of emotions and unsaid words blazing in his eyes. "If she tells anyone, they'll come after you." His voice was low, as if he was trying to steal a moment of privacy despite Dorcas' presence, but there was desperation in his tone. "I'm not going to stand by and let that happen."

"Don't, then," she pleaded. "Don't go back."

Evan's smile was disfigured by sadness. "I'll see what I can do."

The lie rang in Marlene's ears as he strode across the room and exited using the back door. It broke Marlene's heart to see Dorcas cringe and shuffle backwards as he passed. He didn't look back as he disappeared through the door and snapped it shut behind him.

There was a moment of deafening silence. Unable to stand under the weight of the revelation from the night before, combined with the crushing accusation in Dorcas's eyes, Marlene collapsed into a chair at the breakfast table. "I'm trying my hardest to find a way to explain this to you, Doe," she said softly, her voice muffled by the hands pressed to her face. "But there's no explanation for it."

Marlene felt rather than saw Dorcas fall into the chair beside her. "You love him." It wasn't an accusation, or even a press for information; it was simply a statement. When Marlene raised her face, it was streaked with tears. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"You've loved him since Hogwarts." Another statement.

To her own surprise, Marlene gave another slow nod. Then she shook her head and made a guttural noise of protestation, angrily wiping at her cheeks. "I don't know, Doe! I have no idea what I'm feeling. I can't – my head is so _warped_. I don't trust anything I'm thinking or feeling because if I follow it – if I trust what's inside me, then what does that make me?"

Angry tears pricked at Marlene's eyes like needles and she felt the grief and the disgust and the confusion explode out of her in a torrent of hysteria. "He stood by and watched them die, and what did I do? Did I tell him to get the hell out of my house and to never come near me again? Of course I didn't, because I'm weak and I can't bear the thought of never seeing him again."

Dorcas opened her mouth to speak but Marlene continued, as if stopping now would destroy her resolve. The words continued to tumble out as if they were filling her mouth and throat and drowning her, and she needed to do everything she could to stay afloat. "He killed Anthony, did you know that? He knew Anthony was going to die and instead of doing anything about it, he saved me. He chose my life over Anthony's and I _hate_ him for it. He's selfish and he's mean and I'm sick of feeling responsible for everything he does, but at the same time I know he's better than that. He has to be good. He _has to be._ "

With a moan of despair, Marlene dropped her head onto to the table and was racked with violent, unrelenting sobs. The tears pooled on the table, soaking her already tear-stained skin. After a moment, Marlene felt Dorcas's hand slip into her own, the skin soft and cold. Her other hand slid around Marlene's shoulder, without a word.

They sat like that for a very long time.


End file.
